Without Wings
by plasticChevy
Summary: The Galactica rescues humans from a cylon prison world - including one of their own.
1. Chapter 1

**__**

Without Wings

The twin yellow suns swam together in the blue-white sky, bathing the jagged hills beneath in relentless heat. Human residents called this the kill point, the period of the day when both suns shone with full power, directly down on their unprotected bodies. For a brief time, they were grateful for the heavy layer of red-brown dust that coated their skin. The native soil of this devil's cauldron of a planet had elements in it that filtered out the more harmful spectra of radiation.

The human figures who labored across the rock-strewn slopes were all thin and leathery, with long, matted hair, callused hands, and muscles hardened by yarons of exhausting drudgery. Their tools were archaic: hand picks, drag harnesses, metal carts on misshapen wheels. Not one laser cutter or repulsor unit could be found, and only the stubborn strength of human backs kept the mine working.

The young man moved among the workers, lugging a metal canister of water on his shoulder, the dipper clanking harshly as he walked. In his left hand, he held a long wooden staff with which he picked out a stable footing on the steep hillside. He wore only a pair of ragged breeches, that ended just below the knee, and a large sun hat. The other miners wore heavy boots and gloves, but the young man's feet were bare, coated with dust, and decorated with old scars. His hair fell in a thick braid to the small of his back, the color hidden under a layer of dust and sweat.

He made two full circuits of the mine, pausing to offer water to the other workers. In the shade of an escarpment, he set down the water can and slung leather bags over each shoulder. On the next trip, the miners dumped handfuls of uncut gems into his sacks, till he was straining to carry the weight.

The miners treated the young man with quiet courtesy and were always glad to feel his shadow fall across them, heralding the arrival of water. They stepped aside or halted their work when he moved past them, allowing him a clear path on the treacherous slope. But they never spoke to him. Not one word.

When he had carried three loads of stones to the hoppers at the top of the hill, he went back to the water can and started over again. The suns crept slowly apart, throwing eerie shadows on the baked rocks and bringing a tiny respite in the temperature. The miners struggled on, working with the grim determination of men who knew they had no alternative.

*** *** ***

Apollo sat staring at his computer desk, mulling over the impending mission. Blue Squadron had easily destroyed the phalanx of cylon raiders based on this planet, but sensors showed multiple life forms on the surface, apparently human. It bothered him greatly that human or humanoid life would be present on a cylon-controlled world.

He needed to send his best team down to investigate. If humans were being held captive by cylons in this remote corner of the galaxy, it was his duty to free them and offer them sanctuary. but he had to tread carefully. The sensors couldn't pinpoint the number of cylon centurions on the planet, since they didn't register as life forms. Power consumption and output were low, but the hot spots could easily be generators set up to serve the needs of the living inhabitants, rather than concentrations of cylons. 

The team had to be prepared for close combat, rescue operations, and diplomatic forays. The situation was one big unknown.

Luckily, choosing his best team was easy. Sheba, Boomer, Gem and Croft were the obvious choices. With Sheba flying gunner for the shuttle, Boomer as shuttle pilot, Gem as medical officer and Croft for security, the mission had its best chance of success.

As he always did before sending his personnel into action, Apollo let their faces drift through his mind, reviewing their special strengths and needs, the high and low points of their lives, and experiencing the emotions he attached to each of these very important people.

Croft was just Croft. Dependable, resourceful, every inch the Colonial warrior. His hotheaded selfishness had been drained out of him during his yarons on the Prison barge, and now he fully appreciated the worth of his position in the fleet. Apollo trusted him implicitly. Croft only made him uneasy when he tried to gain some insight into the crusty officer's thoughts. He treated Apollo with respect but shared nothing of himself with the younger man.

Boomer and Sheba always made him smile. They were the bright spot in the last three yarons, the reminder that life renewed itself, no matter what. Sheba had hung onto her feelings for Apollo till he became commander of the battlestar, and she finally realized that his heart belonged to his duty and his memories, not to her. Then suddenly, she woke up, looked around her, and discovered Boomer at her elbow.

They were the best kind of warriors and the best kind of couple. Wingmates, lovers, friends, parents; whatever they did, they did together and did well. Their son, Static, was a perfect example of the success of their union. He was still a baby, not yet walking or talking, but he charmed everyone who came in range.

Apollo broke all the rules about assigning married couples to the same squadrons and missions, because Boomer and Sheba worked so beautifully together, that it only made sense. When you had a winning team, you kept it a team. Besides, if one of them were to go up in a ball of fire under cylon guns, the other would want to be there. Maybe if Gem had...

He clamped down on that thought and finally turned his inner eye on Gem. He could see her so clearly, her magnificent russet hair pulled into a neat braid, her glacial gray eyes staring consideringly at him across the desk. Every time he looked at her, he couldn't help remembering the old Gem, the Gem who had taken the Life Center by storm, captivated the heart of every man in the fleet, and turned Starbuck into an honest man.

Apollo still remembered that day, more than five yarons ago, when Starbuck had strolled into the Life Center and changed the course of his life. Gem hit Starbuck like a sunstorm. For the first time in his long, colorful romantic career, he encountered a woman who intimidated him, yet fascinated him so completely that he couldn't ignore her. He adored, even worshipped Gem, but felt so overwhelmed by her that he could barely speak to her.

Only a few of his closest friends knew, at that point, what caused his odd change in attitude. He subtly, but quickly, withdrew from all the women closest to him, no longer able to get any enjoyment from dallying, even with the beautiful Cassiopeia. He couldn't have Gem, he accepted that, but he didn't want anyone else. Bewildered and miserable, but unable to fight his distant coolness, Cass backed away from him and left him to his solitary thoughts.

What Starbuck didn't know, for quite some time, was that Gem felt as strongly about him as he did about her. Gem's past had certain similarities to Starbuck's, though she had never abused or flaunted her ability to manipulate the opposite sex. She had gone for well over thirty yarons without ever meeting a man she could even seriously care about, much less love. Though she discreetly shared her time, her gentle affections, and when appropriate her body with her special male friends, none of them ever got beneath the wall of control she put up around herself.

She had seen Starbuck frequently on the fleet hyperwave station and had immediately recognized his fire and charm. In her distant, private way, she indulged in idle speculation about the pilot, wondering if he would be amenable to the kind of relationship she enjoyed. Then she met him and suffered a major mental shock. It took her about three microns to realize that this was a man she could never, never toy with. She had two choices: stay completely away from him and hope the damage would heal, or admit that she was crazy, out of control in love with him and deal with it.

Gem's native caution kept her from confronting Starbuck, and she quickly became aware that her presence unnerved him, so she did what she could not to threaten him. They became friends, tentatively at first, then openly and confidently. Starbuck's vision of Gem changed from a goddess to a queen, still out of reach but not superhuman. His terrified adoration altered into a painful but thrilling devotion.

Then the day came that Apollo had been waiting for. Starbuck came back from a disastrous patrol, crushed and furious at the loss of a green cadet. Without thinking, he headed for Gem's lab, automatically seeking her out for comfort. Gem sat listening to him pour out his frustration and watching the pain and loss in his face, and she couldn not remain aloof. Summoning all her courage, she reached through the wall of remove that protected her to touch him.

Starbuck and Gem - that had been the love of the millennium. They shared a passion for each other, for their family and for life in general that left others breathless and reeling. Apollo, who knew Starbuck better than any living human, understood that, for all these yarons of using and discarding women, Starbuck had been looking for the one woman whose intensity, brilliance and raw passion were a match for his own. Gem easily met and matched Starbuck, and she too found the impossible - a man she couldn't overpower. For both of them, it was an opportunity to let down barriers and let themselves out.

They were married less than a secton after that day in the lab, stunning the fleet with the suddenness of their romance. Many hoped, though not too loudly, that marriage would prove too great a strain on Starbuck's self control. They were doomed to disappointment, and both Starbuck and Gem thrived. Star arrived less than a yaron later, and the squadron threw her delighted parents a party that became legendary. Barely a yaron after Star's birth, her little sister Chryse joined her.

Apollo vividly remembered coming into the Life Center to check on Gem's progress and finding Starbuck there. He sat holding a curious toddler in one arm and a sleeping newborn in the other. When Apollo spoke to him, he lifted shining, awe-struck eyes to his friend, and tears began to drip steadily down his face. Apollo could only smile and blink back his own tears, understanding all too well what Starbuck was feeling.

His family meant the universe to Starbuck. From orphan child, to wild cadet, to hotshot pilot, he had ever only wanted one thing, a real family. Gem and the children gave him strength, stability, and a soul-deep happiness that colored every aspect of his life.

That was the Starbuck of three yarons ago, the Starbuck whose legendary luck never ran out. Or almost never. Less than two sectons after Chryse's birth, Starbuck went out on patrol and disappeared. No one saw his viper destroyed, no one knew what actually happened to him. He was simply there, then gone.

Gem swore he was still alive. When Apollo pressed her, she told him that she would feel it if he were dead, would feel the empty space in her head and heart. Her certainty lasted for endless sectons of waiting and praying, but no Starbuck ever came. Then, she suddenly announced to Apollo that he was gone. Did she mean dead? he asked. Just gone. That was all he could get out of her, and he saw no point in torturing her with questions.

Starbuck's disappearance had been the first in a seemingly endless chain of losses. After him went Bojay, blasted to smithereens by cylon laser cannon. Dietra was dead too, and Jolly was on permanent disability leave. His leg injury had been fairly minor, but even Salik's best rebuilding couldn't give his knee enough strength to carry his growing weight. Apollo used the excuse of the injury to do what he should have done long before and put him on the retired list.

The greatest loss of all he still could not face head on. The thought of his father, Commander Adama, lying motionless in his bed could even now bring hot tears to his eyes and make his heart pound with fear. Adama had died in his sleep, not a warrior's death, perhaps, but the peaceful one that the great commander had earned. 

Sitting in his father's quarters, at his father's desk, struggling to do his father's job, he felt the weight of the entire fleet resting on his exhausted shoulders. He needed Starbuck to help him through this. Starbuck, Serina, Zac, they were all gone. He was alone with the burden of a job he didn't want.

Apollo shook his head angrily, trying to drive the morose self-pity from his mind. He had plenty of help, if he cared to look for it. He had Tigh, Boomer, and Sheba. He had Boxey's unconditional love, Star's hauntingly familiar smile, and Gem's rock-solid competence. So what if he occasionally wept for his father, alone at night, or dreamed of Serina, or heard Starbuck's voice speaking to him in times of stress. The dead were dead, and the living depended on him.

Thrusting aside his crippling thoughts, he reached for the commline and buzzed Tigh.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Send Boomer, Sheba, Croft and Gem to my quarters, immediately."

"The landing party, Sir?"

"Yes."

"I'll order the shuttle equipped and Sheba's viper prepped."

"Thank you, Tigh."

By the time the first warrior arrived, signaling politely for entry, Apollo had composed himself, leaving no trace of his earlier musings on his face. He greeted Boomer with an affable smile and offered him a chair. Sheba and Gem came right behind him, and Croft only a centon later. 

The four officers ranged themselves comfortably around the room, gazing at Apollo with a familiar calm expectancy. They knew exactly why they had been summoned. They were Apollo's elite team, and this was certainly not the first time they had worked together. They also knew the facts of this mission. Boomer and Sheba had flown in the strike force against the cylon raiders, while Croft and Gem had consulted with Apollo on the attack.

The commander ran his eyes over their faces, measuring their separate levels of readiness and excitement. "I've chosen a landing site. There's a dense population of life forms on the near side of the planet with very low power readings. There can't be many cylons in the vicinity."

"Are we it," Croft asked, "or do we take a strike wing with us?"

"You're it. You'll go in, identify the inhabitants, try to get an accurate count of cylon forces, then report back here."

"Simple recon." Gem nodded understanding. "I assume we have clearance to take out the cylons."

"If you can. Secrecy is obviously not a big priority. Anything else?" Apollo didn't really expect a lot of questions from this group. This sort of seat-of-the-pants mission was their bread and butter. "Good. The ships are being prepped. How soon can you be ready? Gem?"

"Medical gear is already in the launch bay."

"Then let's fly!"

"Aye, aye, skipper!" Boomer crowed, and he bounced out of his seat. "We'll bring you back a souvenir!"

*** *** ***

The suns wandered far from each other now, in the closest thing to dusk this world ever saw. One dropped below the jagged horizon to the north, while the other skimmed the hilltops to the east. The rocky slope was desolate, the miners having packed up their tools and trudged back to the compound for the 'night'.

The compound lay between two spurs of rock, on a narrow strip of dusty plain. The movement of feet kept the air thick with red-brown haze, and the hum of voices echoed off the stark buildings and empty hills. In the open space formed by the angle of two low buildings, a water tank stood on tall, steel legs. A ladder ran up the back of it to a platform, where a man stood operating the dump lever. Each time he pulled the lever, a stream of murky water flooded out of a spout at the bottom of the tank, onto the head of the worker standing below.

Though cleanliness did not rank high on the miners' list of priorities, the evening wash was a good excuse to be doused with water and cool off from the day's exertions. Every evening, the line for the tank trailed clear back to the wall of the detention barracks, and most workers opted for a wash before they picked up their dinner rations.

The young man came out of the storage shed, and headed for the wash line. He moved adroitly through the throng, weaving between filthy, sweat-streaked bodies that were anonymous in their dirt. The other workers automatically stepped aside to allow him passage, as if habit accorded him the right of way, but no one actively acknowledged his presence. He stopped at the back of the wash line and waited in patient silence, as the line inched forward.

About ten paces back, along the line from the tank, stood a large tub of grimy, smelly, gray soap. As the workers moved up, they were required to smear themselves with the soap, at least making a show of cleaning the dirt from their bodies. Without the soap, they were not entitled to a rinse from the tank.

As he crept closer to the front of the line, the young man worked the knotted string off the end of his long braid and began combing his hair free with his fingers. The strands were so heavily caked with dust that they resisted his efforts, but he ruthlessly tore through the snarls till his hair hung in matted ropes down his back. At the soap tub, he took a double handful of the nasty stuff and worked it thoroughly into his hair, then he rubbed it all over himself and into the worn fabric of his breeches.

The attendant at the lever knew the young man's habits well, and he let him stand under the spout till the oily soap was rinsed from his hair and clothing. When he felt reasonably clean, he lifted his hand in a signal to the attendant, then stepped outside the ring of marker stones. His feet were now caked with red mud, but the rest of him felt almost human, and he had long ago given up trying to keep his feet clean. He wrung some of the water from his breeches, wiped his face with the back of his hand, then pulled his hair forward, over his right shoulder, and twisted it into a thick rope.

The young man made his way to a small, dingy, pre-fabricated hut made of metal sheeting. Inside, a row of palettes lay on the floor, along either wall, with a scattering of clothing or personal belongings around each. The air was stifling hot in the windowless space, and the workers had wisely stayed outside to rest and eat.

The young man moved down the center aisle to the fifth palette on the left. A pair of flimsy canvas shoes sat at the foot of the blanket. He picked up the shoes and fished in one of them to find a small, crudely made metal comb. It had obviously been cut from a piece of scrap metal and had only three tines, but it was just as obviously well used.

He quickly left the airless hut and went back over to the wash area. Near the soap tub, he rinsed his feet in a shallow pan of water before slipping on the shoes. Then, he picked up his ration of badly synthesized protein paste and a mug of weak grog and headed for his usual spot on the eastern escarpment.

At this time of day, the ugly, barren compound seemed almost pleasant. The angle of the sun threw cooling shadows well across the dusty yard. Dinner, relaxation and a modicum of freedom loosened the tongues of grim, terse miners. For a short time, the men could smile, even laugh quietly at a shared joke. Soon, exhaustion would catch up with them, and they would sprawl in the dirt to sleep, not bothering to brave the sweltering huts for blankets.

From his vantage point on the rocks, the young man could watch the movement of the figures below him, listen to the hum of tired voices, and soak up a bit of human companionship without actually having to cope with any of his fellow prisoners. Every evening, he climbed the slope to sit on his flat, comfortable rock, eat his dinner, and wait for sleep to catch up with him.

When his unappetizing meal was done, he took his comb and began picking the tangles from his long hair. In the heat, the moisture evaporated so quickly that it practically formed a mist around his head, and in a matter of centons, the heavy mass began to dry. By the time he combed the last snarl out, his grimy, colorless braid had transformed into a thick, smooth, gently waving curtain of warm brown, streaked with pale gold, that flowed down his back and spilled over his shoulders. The sunstreaked mane fell in smooth waves back from his face and forehead, softening his hard features and giving them a kind of inhuman beauty.

The young man was beginning to feel the effects of a hard day, and was considering climbing down to join the growing number of sleepers in the compound, when a sudden noise jerked him out of his lethargy. The roar and scream of high-powered engines tore through the compound, tumbling miners to their feet and bringing warning shouts from those still awake. At first, the young man assumed the craft must be carrying the cylon jailers he knew so well. They didn't often fly overhead this way, but theirs were the only aircraft he had ever encountered.

Then he heard someone shout, "Colonials! It's a viper!" and he began to wonder. The miner's words meant nothing to him, but the excitement in the man's voice peaked his curiosity. No one got excited about cylons.

He was just standing up, preparing to climb down the slope, when a second howling craft roared over the escarpment. This one was bigger, louder, and definitely not a cylon. Surprise made him careless, and he took a step without looking. The next micron, he was sliding and rolling down the brutal face of the escarpment, while the strange engines shrieked in his ears. He hit the bottom and lay, stunned and aching, unable to collect himself enough to move.

Sheba did a quick circuit of their landing field, eyes narrowed against the glare of a low-riding sun. The shuttle settled easily onto the ground beside her viper, and Croft popped the hatch.

"All clear! Did you see the camp we flew in over?"

"Yeah. Humans, from the looks of it."

Boomer and Gem followed him out, and Boomer quickly dispersed them. "Sheba, Croft, try to round up those people in the yard. Don't let anyone out till we know who they are. Gem, you and I will scout the two large buildings. Stay in touch."

Sheba and Croft reached the compound at a run, weapons drawn and eyes peeled for trouble. They were met with shrieks and screams, scurrying bodies and clouds of red-brown dust. A man on a platform at the top of some kind of water tower tried to climb down a ladder, tripped in his haste, and fell howling to the ground. Croft took off to the right, trying to box them in and keep them by the wall of the longer building. Sheba skirted to the left.

As she moved toward a huddled group of people, she heard one of them moan, "What have we done?!"

That stopped her dead. "Nothing! We aren't here to hurt you." She carefully slid her laser pistol into its holster and held her hands out, away from her body. "What are you afraid of?"

The man just huddled farther away from her and shivered.

"We're Colonial warriors. Have you heard of the Colonies?"

From behind her, a voice answered, "I have."

She spun around and saw a large, bearded, muscular man, holding a pick threateningly in his callused hands. "You have? Are you from the Colonies?"

"More than twenty yarons ago, I was. Now I'm just another cylon drudge."

"What is this place?"

"A cylon prison work camp. We mine ore and chryses for the Cylon Empire."

"That explains the raiders we destroyed. Are all of you Colonials?"

The big man waved contemptuously at the other miners. "Most of 'em don't know. Cylons messed with their minds and wiped it out, or they've been here so long, they just forgot. Me, I never forget."

"Can you ask them all to calm down and let us help? We're here to eliminate the remaining cylons and evacuate the humans. If you could talk to them..."

The man opened his mouth and roared, "Everybody, muzzle it!" The workers fell obediently silent. "These guys ain't gonna hurt you! Keep quiet, get over by the wall, and do what you're told!"

Slowly, but surely, the frightened prisoners began drifting toward the wall of the barracks. They fell into a ragged line of miserable, defensive bodies. Sheba saw Croft at the other end of the line, firmly herding people into place, and she looked around to be sure her quadrant was clear. Only one, a figure lying tumbled at the foot of a rock slope, wasn't moving.

Sheba crossed the compound and knelt beside him in the thick dust. All she could see was a lean, muscular body and a mass of dark gold hair, but when she spoke to him, he flinched away from her voice.

"I know you can hear me. Come on, just get up." She got no response. "Are you hurt?"

The big man's voice once again answered her from behind. "You won't get nothin' from that one. He don't talk."

"Do you mean he _can't_ talk?"

The man shrugged. "Just don't. Never has." The man brushed her aside and bent to grab the silent figure by the shoulders. His powerful arms lifted the young man to his feet and shoved him toward the line of other prisoners. He followed closely on the young man's heels.

Sheba watched them join the line by the wall and trailed curiously after them. Something about the silent man intrigued her. She dutifully checked the grounds for stragglers and ran her eyes over the motley collection of workers, then planted herself in front of her helpful giant and the strange figure hiding behind his curtain of hair.

"What's your name?" she asked the big man.

"Tirzo."

"You're Tauran?"

"Yeah. Mill worker. Cylons took me in a raid when I was twenty-three yarons old."

"Hey, Sheba!" Croft bellowed, "Boomer and Gem took out three centurions. Buildings are clear!"

"Is there a guard post somewhere near?"

"Nah. They don't need no guards. Where'd we go? Cylons come and go, but the dust gets 'em, and they have to go off for repairs. Always a few round to keep us workin' but not more'n three or four."

Sheba turned her attention to the other man, who stood with his back to her and his head down. She couldn't pin down what it was about him that fascinated her, but she could hardly keep her eyes off him. Maybe it was that hair, and the fact that it was clean - just about the only clean thing in the whole place.

"Turn around. I won't hurt you."

Tirzo shook his head. "Won't do it. Strange one, he is."

Sheba caught his shoulder and, ignoring his flinch, forcibly turned him to face her. He stood numbly, hands at his sides, head down, while she ran her eyes over him. He was just like all the others, spare and lean, with hard muscles and scarred hands. Right now, he was decorated with cuts and bruises, reminding Sheba that she'd found him lying at the base of the escarpment. She could also see old whip scars on his ribs and shoulders and wondered what such a docile man had done to earn flogging.

"Look at me." Again, he ignored her, and she gently lifted his chin with her fingertips.

For a long, horrible centon, she could only stare into that empty, beautiful, terrifyingly familiar face, then the air rushed out of her lungs in a cry of disbelief. Deep, clear blue eyes stared into hers, unknowing and uncaring.

Croft was suddenly beside her, alarmed by her cry. "Sheba, what's wrong?"

She could only shake her head, still staring in blank shock at the silent man. Croft followed her gaze and, for a micron, didn't understand. Then the blood drained from his face and he muttered a curse. In the same instant, Sheba's paralysis broke, and she threw her arms rapturously around the silent man's neck, sobbing,

"Starbuck! You're alive! Oh, God, you're alive!"

Croft noted the other man's complete lack of reaction and frowned. He gently pried Sheba away from the prisoner and said, very quietly, "Are you sure this is Starbuck?"

"How can you ask that? Look at him!"

"He doesn't know you, Sheba."

Tirzo, much interested in the proceedings, commented, "Told you, he's a strange one. You know him?"

"Yes! He's a Colonial warrior, a pilot who disappeared on patrol yarons ago!"

"Maybe he is," Croft cautioned.

"Well, he ain't no pilot now."

"Why do you say that?"

"Look at 'im." Tirzo waved a hand in front of the young man's face. "Vacant as a vacuum tube."

Sheba shuddered. "Starbuck, what have they done to you?"

"Just 'bout what they did to all of us, Cap'n."

Boomer's shout echoed through the compound, and Croft swore softly again. "What do we tell Gem?"

"Gem?"

"If this is Starbuck..."

"It is!"

"Do you want to introduce her to him?"

Before Sheba could answer, they heard the crunch of booted feet in the dust, and Gem and Boomer hurried up to them.

"What's up, guys?" Boomer demanded.

"These are cylon prisoners, held here to mine ore and gems. They all appear to be human." Croft gestured to the big Tauran. "This is Tirzo. He's been here a long, long time and can answer all our questions."

"Good work. Sheba? Sheba, what's wrong?"

Sheba wiped the tears from her face and took the silent man's arm to draw him forward. He obediently stepped closer to the group of Colonials but dropped his head again, so that his hair obscured his face.

"Don't do that. These are friends of yours." She put a hand under his chin and forced his head up. "Look at him, Boomer."

Boomer looked, and his eyes grew huge with shock. Turning his panicked gaze on Sheba, he choked, "It can't be! He's dead!" He peered again at the alien, yet utterly familiar, face. "By the Lords of Kobol...is this some kind of cylon trick?" The empty eyes met his, and Boomer backed away from him, shaking his head in panicked denial. "No! You aren't Starbuck! You can't be!"

Sheba put her arms around him, as much to draw reassurance from him as to lend comfort, and said, urgently, "We'll find out the truth; we'll find out everything, and we'll bring Starbuck back."

"It isn't him! It isn't!"

Boomer's hysterical tone cut through Sheba's own shock and forced her to regain some kind of control. She stepped away from her husband, only clasping his forearms in steady hands, and insisted, "Whoever or whatever he is, we have a job to do, and he's part of it. Concentrate on the job, Boomer."

That snapped Boomer back on track, and he pulled sharply away from her. He was behaving like a child, not a seasoned warrior, and this was no time for hysteria. He was trying to sort out their next step, when he heard Croft speaking to Gem in an uncharacteristically gentle tone.

"Are you all right, Doctor?"

He turned to see Gem backing slowly away from the ghost by the wall, her eyes mad holes in her death-white face. She couldn't seem to breathe properly, and her hands were clenched into frantic fists. Croft put a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped as if struck.

"Take it easy."

A touch of rationality returned to her face as she looked at the war-scarred colonel. She found her voice and whispered, "This isn't happening."

"Maybe not, but maybe it is. Maybe that's Starbuck, and maybe you can help him."

"It can't be Starbuck...he's gone. I felt him go."

"Then there's nothing to be afraid of. You can tell us if it's him."

Gem closed her eyes and shuddered. "I can't."

"You can." He firmly gripped her arm and propelled her toward the silent prisoner. "I don't believe in ghosts, Doctor. Either Starbuck is alive, or that is a complete stranger. Either way, there's nothing to be afraid of."

Gem paced slowly up to the young man and forced herself to look at him. The others waited, tense and silent, for some reaction on her part. After several agonizing centons, she reached out to lift his right hand in both of hers. She studied the callused hand thoughtfully, turning it to look at the palm, then she laced her fingers through his and squeezed it gently.

"Hello, Starbuck."

He gave no sign that he heard her, but Gem smiled anyway. Putting her free hand lightly on his shoulder, she planted a kiss on his cheek, then turned and headed for the shuttle, still holding his hand.

"We're going home, now."

Starbuck followed her obediently, if a bit reluctantly.


	2. Chapter 2

Salik glanced up from the monitor as Cassiopeia hurried over to him. "What?"

"The second load of evacuated prisoners has arrived and is being processed. The first batch has been decontaminated, examined and assigned temporary quarters." She handed him a thick folder. "Here are the complete test results on..." She shot an uncomfortable glance at the monitor and nodded towards the image on the screen. "...on him."

All eyes turned to the screen that showed the interior of a private cubicle. In it, the young man sat quietly in a chair, managing to look frightened and defensive without moving a muscle. As they watched, footsteps sounded on the deck outside the cubicle, and he ducked his head protectively.

Sheba quietly remarked, "He always does that, when he wants to hide."

"Yeah," Boomer agreed, "it's weird how he retreats behind his hair. I can't get used to seeing him with all that hair. How could it have grown so long, in only three yarons?"

Gem shrugged. "Different radiation levels on the planet, chemicals in the water."

"If he was only there for three yarons," Apollo interjected. "If that's Starbuck."

Salik lifted his head from studying the reports and said, "It's him." That got their undivided attention. "No question. We've run a genetic patterning test on him, and that is definitely Starbuck."

A murmur of relief and wonder ran through the group, and Sheba closed her eyes and muttered, "Thank God."

"Don't get too excited. The tests turned up a lot of other facts, as well."

Apollo shot a grim look over at Gem, then insisted, "Give us all of it, Doc."

"He was captured by the cylons. That's evident. He shows traces of severe injuries that have had yarons to heal, indicating that he was tortured after his capture, but not recently."

"What kind of injuries?"

"Broken bones, internal injuries, and of course, the permanent damage. He was treated with a neural corrosive, one of the cylons' more disgusting inventions. It burns out the nerve synapses, destroying whole sections of the brain, over time."

Cassiopeia asked, "He has...he has brain damage?"

"Yes. The corrosive was injected into his left temporal lobe. His speech center. That's why he doesn't talk. He may be able to regain the ability to speak, since the human brain has countless unused neural pathways and a great deal of redundancy, but not till he's willing to work on it, and in his current condition, he isn't likely to cooperate.

"At some point, the cylons tampered with his mind. At this stage, we can't tell if it was a full wipe, or something less destructive. All we can see are the results. They took out his long-term memory, so he has no recollection of his identity or his life before the prison colony. His reasoning faculties seem to be intact - he hears and understands what you say to him, he just doesn't know what you're talking about."

Salik shot a sad, worried look at Gem and spoke directly to her. "He's still there, somewhere, he just can't find himself. He's upset and frightened, disoriented by his removal from the only environment he knows, very confused, and very...lost."

They all gazed silently at the figured huddled in his chair. Cass voiced what all of them were thinking. "I can't stand to see him like that. What can we do?"

"The first order of business is to give him a sense of stability. He needs some place where he feels safe, or at least in control. I can keep him here, in Life Center, for one watch if I have to, but that will only prolong the torment. He can't take much more of this."

"He won't stay here," Gem assured Salik. "The best place for him to find a sense of security is in his own home. I'll take him there as soon as you've finished."

"What about the children?" Cass demanded. "Won't they be frightened?"

"Sheba, would you be willing..."

"Say no more. Star and Chryse will stay with us as long as necessary."

"Just for one night. Tomorrow, I'll explain who Starbuck is and introduce them to him. Then, we'll play it by ear."

"Like I said, they're welcome to stay with us as long as necessary. I'll go get them, right now." She paused to give Gem a friendly hug, then hurried out of the room.

Gem turned back to stare at the monitor. "Any more tests tonight?"

"No. All of these men from the planet are exhausted. They worked a full day in that blistering heat and were just dropping off to sleep when we swooped down and carried them off. Starbuck would be asleep in his chair, if he weren't so frightened."

"Starbuck...Starbuck...it sounds so odd to be saying his name again. We've been afraid to say it, since we found him."

"It really is Starbuck."

"I know. I knew before you ran the tests."

"Gem..."

"Don't worry about me, Doctor." She lifted clear, gray eyes to his face, and he saw that three yarons of ice had left them. "I've been lost too, but no longer. I won't lose myself or Starbuck again."

A moment later, Salik saw Gem appear on the monitor, in Starbuck's cubicle. He watched her walk up to the chair, Boomer, Apollo and Cassiopeia lurking by the door, then he turned off the monitor and went back to his test results.

Gem moved softly up to Starbuck's chair, noting how he seemed to retreat into it at her approach, and knelt in front of him. She gently disentangled his tightly clenched hands and held them in a firm grasp. Her voice was low, smooth, and comforting.

"Hello, Starbuck. I know you don't recognize that name, but it's the only one I have to call you. Do you have a name you want me to use?" She waited, not expecting an answer but hoping for some kind of response, however subtle. After a few silent microns, Starbuck lifted his head slightly, his eyes shifting toward her face. "Until you can give me another, I'll have to keep calling you Starbuck. Okay?"

He was sitting up straight now, listening to her gentle voice, his face fully visible.

"You must be tired. I'd like to take you home, where you can get some sleep, if that's okay." When she made a move to stand up, he quickly ducked his head again, retreating behind a shining curtain of hair. "No." Gem lifted his chin, then brushed the hair back from his face, resting her hand on his cheek. "Don't hide from me." 

She stood up and pulled slightly on his hand. He made one attempt to pull away from her, but she held on. Finally, he rose to his feet.

"Follow me. It isn't far."

They reached Gem's quarters without trouble, and she led Starbuck inside. Sheba had gotten the children out, so the small suite of rooms was quiet and deserted. Gem went straight into the bedroom and guided Starbuck up to the bed.

"Sit down, Starbuck." A hand on his shoulder encouraged him to sit.

He settled onto the mattress and seemed a bit surprised. For the first time, Gem saw him show interest in his surroundings. He ran his hand over the quilted blanket and pushed against the mattress experimentally.

"This is a bed. You didn't have beds in the work camp? It's where you sleep, and I know you're ready to sleep." Starbuck's gaze tracked her movements around the room. He didn't seem in the mood to hide anymore. "Take your shoes off."

To Gem's surprise, he promptly bent and slid off one shoe. Salik had arranged for a thorough molecular wash, after the tests were completed, so even Starbuck's feet were clean. When his bare foot touched the metal deck, he pulled it back in alarm and curled his leg up under him on the bed.

"Both shoes," Gem gently reminded him. He kicked off the second shoe and scooted farther onto the bed, avoiding any contact with the alien floor. Gem came over and began untucking the blanket, sending Starbuck toward the foot of the bed. "I won't hurt you. I'm just getting the bed ready for you to sleep in it. It's more comfortable this way. Come here. Come on, Starbuck."

He reluctantly crawled toward her, responding to the unmistakable authority in her tone. He eyed the smooth, silvery sheet curiously, but when his hand contacted the new surface, he snatched it away. Gem just watched with smiling eyes, as he ran his fingers over the sheet and blanket, absorbing the different textures and assuring himself that both were benign. Finally, he moved up to the head of the bed and sat down to wait for Gem's next order.

"Now, take off those breeches." Starbuck just looked blank. "You aren't sleeping on my clean sheets in those dreadful old pants. Will you take them off, or shall I?" When he made no move to obey, she couldn't resist saying, "I've done it before, and I'll do it again!"

Gem was as good as her word. She quickly and efficiently stripped off Starbuck's breeches and bundled him into bed. He looked more startled than alarmed at her behavior, and when she pushed him back against the fat pillow, he made no protest.

"Close your eyes and go to sleep. There's nothing to be afraid of here." She stood up and moved to the locker to change her clothes, leaving him alone to relax and unwind. Though she was afraid he wouldn't be able to sleep in this strange environment, when she turned back around to check on him, he had burrowed down under the blanket and closed his eyes. His even breathing told her that he already slept.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Gem busied herself cleaning up the room. Her own clothing went into the laundry chute, and she was about to stuff Starbuck's grungy pants into the trash, when she thought better of it. A closer look revealed that they were uniform pants, faded and tattered, but unmistakably those of a Colonial warrior. They were very likely the remains of the uniform he was wearing the day he disappeared. Folding the fragile cloth carefully over her arm, she laid them in the clothing locker.

Her head was swimming with exhaustion by the time she put away the last of the girls' toys and closed the door to the outer room. She was completely wiped out; all she could think of was collapsing into bed. She stopped suddenly in the doorway, staring numbly at the man sleeping in her bed - their bed.

As many times as she had dreamed of this moment, imagining Starbuck's sleeping face on the pillow beside her, she could never have concocted this. He really was there, a softly breathing shape under the blanket, his hair spilled in a silken puddle around him, but he wasn't her Starbuck anymore. For the first time since she had seen the ghost by the barracks wall, for the first time in three yarons, she began to cry. 

Tears slid silently from her eyes and her breath caught painfully in her throat. Leaning her aching head against the bulkhead, she wrapped both her arms around her ribcage and sobbed in agony. At that moment, she felt more helplessly and hideously alone than she ever had in her life. She would have given her soul to feel Starbuck's arms around her and hear his voice telling her that everything would be all right. Instead, she felt the cold metal of the wall against her cheek and heard her own weeping.

Eventually, even her tears gave way to weariness, and she dried her face on her sleeve. She couldn't take any more of this day. She had to sleep, give herself time to gather strength before she confronted her new responsibilities. Moving slowly, so as not to disturb Starbuck, she crawled into the far side of the bed and collapsed.

In the wee hours of the watch, when Gem was sleeping deeply and dreamlessly, a sudden noise jerked her painfully into wakefulness. She sat up with a start, gazing uncomprehendingly at the dark room. Her brain stumbled through the tatters of sleep, baffled by her abrupt awakening.

Then she heard it again, a muffled cry of pain. Memory flooded back to her, and she bent to look at Starbuck. He had snarled the covers around himself and pulled the pillow over his head, and as Gem lifted it away, she saw that he was shivering, though his hair was damp with sweat. He cried out again, a wordless, formless sound that sent a splash of cold fear down her spine.

Sliding closer to him, she leaned down to murmur soothing words in his ear, and she stroked his hair and face with a gentle hand.

"Starbuck, can you hear me?"

He twisted violently away from her, moaning in fear and clutching at the blanket.

"Shhh. It's only a dream. Wake up, angel."

He was trying to say something, though the words were barely recognizable as such. His head tossed fretfully for a moment, then he stiffened, terror in every line of his body, and called out a single word. Gem put a hand on his shoulder, and he rolled abruptly towards her.

The next micron he was huddled in her arms, his face buried in her shoulder, weeping uncontrollably. Gem held him as tightly as she could, trying to calm his convulsive shivering with her sheltering warmth. The nightmare lasted for nearly a centar, then he slowly relaxed and drifted into a deeper, quieter sleep, but he stayed curled close to Gem, protected by her arms and soothed by her presence. As Starbuck quieted, Gem also slept, strangely comforted by the familiar body next to hers.

Gem awoke at her usual time, out of habit, and stumbled into the turbo wash in a vain attempt to revive herself. Starbuck still slept, nearly comatose with exhaustion, so she could move freely about the suite without fear of disturbing him. A long wash, clean clothes and a big meal helped drive the cobwebs from her brain. She checked once more on Starbuck, then settled down to do some work on her computer link-up.

She had complete quiet and isolation in which to work for more than three centars, interrupted only by a couple of calls. Salik wanted Starbuck down in Life Center for more tests but willingly postponed them at her request. Sheba called to find out when she planned to talk to the girls, but Gem couldn't give her a schedule. She had no idea what Starbuck's frame of mind would be when he woke up, and she didn't want to risk upsetting him or the children with a premature meeting.

The research was not going well, and Gem was getting extremely frustrated with the stubborn refusal of the facts to tally. With a disgusted sigh, she turned off the computer and stood up to stretch. Her eyes strayed through the open bedroom door, and she turned in surprise.

Starbuck was awake, lying quietly with his gaze fixed on the far wall. He looked calm, drained, and a little sad. Gem wondered how long he had been awake, lying there alone, not knowing where he was or what to do. At least he didn't seem frightened.

She walked softly up to the bed and spoke to him in her gentlest voice, trying not to startle him. "Good morning, Starbuck."

His eyes lifted to her face, suddenly wary, and he pulled the blanket a little higher under his chin.

Gem sat on the edge of the mattress and put one hand lightly on his knee. "I hope you feel better. Are you hungry?" She watched him for a long moment, trying to gauge his receptiveness to her. Salik claimed that Starbuck was fully rational and mentally competent, but he was so completely cut off from her that she had no idea how much he really understood. Would he communicate with her if he could?

She caressed the side of his face, letting him feel her touch and get accustomed to it. When she saw the tension begin to drain from his muscles, she pushed against his shoulder to roll him onto his back. He stared up at her, nervous and confused, but also a touch curious.

"I think you understand me, Starbuck. I'd like to show you a way to answer my questions without talking, since you're not ready to talk to me yet. All you have to do is move your head, like this." She nodded slowly, then lifted his chin slightly, in imitation of her gesture. "That means `yes'. Then if you move your head this way, it means `no'. If you nod yes and shake your head no, everyone will understand you, and you can talk to anyone you like. Now, I'll ask you again; are you hungry?"

Starbuck stared uncertainly at her for several microns, with a wary look in his eyes. She had about decided that he wasn't going to respond when he nodded slowly and awkwardly.

Gem smiled widely, with a genuine sparkle of happiness. "I'll have some food ready for you when you get out of the turbo wash. But you don't eat till you get cleaned up. Wait here." She got up and fetched a wrap from the locker, then came back over to the bed and stripped his covers off. "Stand up."

He obeyed, but he didn't like the slick, hard feel of the deck under his bare feet and shifted uncomfortably till Gem put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Relax, it's only a floor. You'll get used to it, and it's a lot cleaner than dirt." She coaxed his arms into the sleeves of the wrap and belted it snugly around his waist. "Come with me, and I'll show you how the turbo wash works."

Still twitching dubiously at the cold touch of the floor, he followed her into the head. She explained how all the fixtures worked and checked to be sure he understood, then she left him alone. Several centons later, he appeared in the doorway, freshly laundered and looking very young and lost in his oversized wrap and disheveled mop of shining hair.

Gem hurried over to him and took his arm to lead him back over to the bed. "Do you feel better?" He nodded slightly. "Sit down." She brought his meal over on a floater tray. For today, at least, she wanted to keep his environment as small and safe as possible, so she had decided not to introduce him to the other rooms in the suite. He could eat here, sitting on the bed, where he felt at home.

She watched him eat for a moment, wondering what it was that made him look so small and vulnerable, and suddenly noticed the impossible fit of the wrap. That was a piece of Starbuck's own clothing and should have fit him perfectly, but he was dwarfed by it. Studying his narrow waist and slender hips, she knew his uniforms would never fit him now.

"I'll be right back, Starbuck. Finish your breakfast." In the outer room, she logged on the computer and accessed the supply files. It took her a few centons to figure out what size Starbuck would wear now, and she discovered that there were no pilot's uniforms immediately available in his proportions. She ordered some simple civilian clothes on a rush and had them popped in the chute. By the time Starbuck had finished his meal, she had clean clothes for him.

Starbuck was quite familiar with the concept of clothing, but he'd worn the same breeches, and nothing else, for nearly three yarons. It took patience on Gem's part and a good deal of trust on his to get him dressed. Finally, he stood arrayed in a pair of snug-fitting dark pants, high-topped black leather boots, and a loose linen shirt. Gem admired the effect, and congratulated herself on her fashion choices, unable to resist staring at his slender, powerful, graceful body. She couldn't afford to let her thoughts wander too far in that direction.

"Sit down. I'll braid your hair for you."

He sat obediently on the bed and tucked one foot up under him, turning so she could comb out his glittering mane of hair. Gem took her time over the task, allowing herself to forget that the man sitting beside her was a stranger. She loved touching him, doing intimate, homey things for him. She loved the feel of his thick, smooth hair sliding between her fingers and the sound of his even breathing in the quiet room. He seemed to enjoy the contact himself, and was in no hurry for her to finish.

When his hair hung in a fat, shining braid down his back, the end brushing the bedclothes, Gem shook off the comfortable spell and stood up.

"Now you're ready to face anything. You don't look much like the Starbuck I remember, but you still look wonderful." She paused, studying him with a half smile on her face, then murmured, "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" Starbuck shook his head fractionally. "You don't remember anything at all. How could you understand what I mean?"

A surge of emotion washed over her, forcing words from her that caution told her were dangerous. Without thinking, she knelt on the deck in front of him and clasped his hands urgently.

"I need to talk to you, Starbuck, to try and explain some things to you. It's very important that you listen to me and try to understand. Will you do that?"

He frowned down at her in confusion, but nodded.

"Thank you. You don't remember me, or this place, or any of the people around you, but once this was your home. You lived on this ship for many, many yarons. The people here know you and love you. They all desperately want you to come back to them.

"Your life didn't begin in that prison camp, Starbuck! You must believe me! There is so much here that was once important to you!

"Tell me, do you trust me at all? Do you feel any sense of comfort in me being here with you?"

Starbuck nodded immediately, bringing a sigh of relief from Gem.

"There's a reason for that. Before you were taken by the cylons, in the time you don't remember, you and I were very, very close. You were the center of my life, the person I loved more than any other. Do you know what a wife is?" He shook his head. "Maybe you'll understand in time. I was your wife - I still am - and you're my husband. We lived together, right here, and we had two children. There were no children in the camp, so I assume you don't know what they are, but you'll find out soon.

"Starbuck, I know that we're all strangers to you, and that I can't have the life and the family that I knew back again. But I love you! I never stopped, never could stop, and I can't pretend otherwise! All I can do is try to make this easier for you and pray that someday, somehow, you'll remember. Is any of this making sense to you?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes sad and pleading. He opened his mouth but shut it without trying to speak, then lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. Gem caught his head between her hands, pulled him down and kissed him gently, then stood up and headed for the door.

"I'm going to fetch the girls. Will you wait for me here?" He nodded again. She stood in the doorway, staring at him for a long centon, so full of unspoken words that her chest ached with the pressure. Finally, she turned and rushed from the room.

*** *** ***

Starbuck sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the muted sounds of the battlestar filtering into the isolated room and wondering how long his solitude would last. Gem had sent the girls to their lesson periods, then said something about having work to do and vanished. As usual, he understood few of her words and had virtually no idea of what she was talking about, but he remembered mention of some place called a 'lab' and things called 'files'.

From past experience, he didn't think he had much time before Gem returned. She seemed reluctant to leave him alone, no matter where he was. In Life Center, or the Game deck, or just around their quarters, she either stayed with him herself or made sure someone else did. Starbuck found himself strangely attracted to Gem, but he was becoming desperate to find a place where she, and everyone else, would leave him alone.

He considered his inexplicable feelings for Gem and wondered if they weren't part of the problem. Try as he might, he could not remember her, and yet, he was drawn to her. He trusted and depended on a person he had no recollection of, and it frightened him. The children had a similar, unsettling effect on him. Though he had no concrete idea of who they were or where they came from, they brought up very strong, protective emotions in him.

Surrounded by people he felt oddly close to, he should have been comfortable and secure, but he was not. On the prison planet, he had spent all of his time alone, never speaking to the men he lived and worked with, keeping an emotional distance from them even when he couldn't keep a physical one. Now, he was constantly beset with people who seemed to expect something from him. He found it frightening and smothering. He needed to get out.

The big question was, where could he go? Gem and the others had taken him various places on the ship often enough, but he had always encountered more people, no matter where they went. Was there no place on this vessel that wasn't crowded? The walls were rapidly closing in on him, and even if he couldn't find solitude, he could at least breathe new air.

His face hard with determination, he made his way to the outer room and over to the door. Once he crossed that threshold, he would be in unfamiliar territory, where one metal corridor looked exactly like another and his fresh, fragmentary memories could not help him. He paused to think through his decision, but the knot in his stomach told him he had no choice. It was now or never. Gem would be returning any time.

The corridor was deserted, and Starbuck moved cautiously down it toward the lift, without encountering any curious strangers. He knew how the lifts functioned; Gem had showed him. One arrived quickly, and he stepped inside.

The large panel was completely full of buttons, and he had no way of limiting his search, so he pushed every one of them. The trip was slow, and occasional groups of people got on and off the lift, but Starbuck just stayed well back in the corner, trying to look inconspicuous. At each level, he peered out, hoping for the emptiness and silence he craved, but finding only more hurrying figures and more noise. So, he kept going down.

In the lower levels, fewer and fewer other people used the lift, and the noises got stranger all the time. The sounds of humanity were largely replaced by the sounds of machinery, even more threatening to his unaccustomed ears. Then the lift sighed to a stop for the last time, and the doors opened.

Starbuck listened carefully. He could hear nothing - not voices or machines or the sigh of ventilators. The air wafting in the opening was cold and smelled strange, rather stale, but the absolute quiet beckoned to him. Starbuck eased cautiously through the doors and heard his boots clang on hollow metal. The floor vibrated gently underneath him, then complete silence reigned again.

He looked around at the small square of space visible in the light from the open lift. All he could see was a platform, enclosed with a railing of metal tubing, and a catwalk extending off into the darkness. No walls, no ceiling, no floor. Only that platform suspended on the edge of nothing.

The lift doors slid shut, cutting off the minimal light, and Starbuck was alone in the devil's pit. He just stood, listening and breathing, for what felt like centars, then he began to walk slowly forward.

The odd vibration of the floor unnerved him. His eyes had told him that he was on a catwalk, high above the deck, but in his limited experience, he had no understanding of what that meant. As he moved, the metal clanged under his feet, warning any hidden inhabitants of his approach. He found the railing on the left side of the platform and began to follow it, grateful for its solidity in the perpetual, trackless night.

As his ears adjusted to the new environment, he found that the pit was not as silent as he had imagined. First, he began to tune in the distant hum of engines, somewhere above him, through several layers of metal. Then he picked out stealthy rustlings and scrabblings, like rodents in the rocks of the escarpment back home. Occasionally, he heard the slap of bare feet on metal. He was definitely not alone.

The realization disappointed him slightly - he had devoutly hoped that he'd found his haven - but it didn't frighten him. Whatever was creeping through the emptiness out there obviously did not want to be found. As long as it left him alone, he wouldn't bother it.

Feeling fairly confident and rather pleased with himself, he picked up his pace and strode down the catwalk. He didn't care where the railing took him, at this point. He was simply enjoying the sensation of exploring on his own.

The noise above took him completely by surprise and stopped the breath in his throat. The raucous, inhuman croak came from immediately above his head and sent him reeling away in total panic. His hip struck the railing, he twisted sharply to his left, and then the thing hit him across the side of the head. The blow knocked him half over the railing, but he managed to hang on to the slick metal. The next instant, a pair of very human, very strong arms caught his legs and pitched him off the catwalk.

Starbuck didn't scream as he fell. All he managed was a sharp gasp of surprise as his grip on the railing faltered and he dropped into the empty blackness. He had time to wonder how much it would hurt to die this way, then his feet hit the deck. He heard a distinct snap, pain sliced viciously through his body, and he collapsed in a dead faint.

*** *** ***

Gem shot a grim look around the Life Center and nodded shortly to Cassiopeia. "You were right. I hoped he'd come here, since it's familiar. Any other ideas?"

"Have you checked with Lumina?"

"He hasn't been to see the girls. Nor has he been to Blue Squadron billets, the flight deck, Apollo's quarters, Boomer's quarters, the Bridge, Rejuv...did I leave anything out?"

Cass now looked as worried and frustrated as Gem. "No, not that I can think of. Any chance he got on a shuttle and left the ship?"

"I'll check. Cass, am I being over protective? Should I let this slide and give the man some space?"

"Find him first, then make that call. I sure wouldn't want him wandering around the battlestar, with no one to navigate for him and no memory of where he is. Hey! Do you think he had a memory flash and went to find something familiar?"

"That's why I tried the flight deck. He hasn't remembered anything yet, but he's been having dreams, every night, that I think are connected to his memory."

"What kind of dreams?"

"Nightmares. My guess is, he's dreaming about the base star and being tortured by the cylons. The strongest images are usually the first to return, when your mind is trying to break through a block. It would make sense that he'd remember that first."

"You're sure he's remembering in his dreams?"

"It sure sounds like it to me. And he talks - or tries to. I can't understand what he says, but he's definitely talking to someone. The only thing I can make out is my own name."

"He talks to you when he's dreaming?"

Gem's eyes darkened with pain, and her voice took on a rough edge. "Calls me, really, as if he's frightened or in pain and needs my help. It's dreadful, Cass. I can't reach him while he's sleeping, and the moment he wakes up he forgets. I spend all night listening to him in agony, begging me to help, and I can't do a damned thing!"

Cassiopeia put a gentle hand on her shoulder and murmured, "I know, it must hurt. But think of what his dreams mean! He's trying to remember, his mind is trying to come back, and as horrible as the dreams are, they're helping to bring him back to you. One night he'll wake up and he will remember!"

"God, I hope so! Will you help me find him, Cass?"

"Of course. Where shall we start?"

*** *** ***

Starbuck awoke to the insistent grinding of pain in his body, washing up from his legs to torment his fogged brain. He groaned softly and attempted to push himself up, away from the floor. That's when he felt the hands.

Out of the darkness, a pair of alien, clawlike hands reached to clutch at him. They grabbed his shoulders and shoved him roughly back against the deck. Then, they began to grope horribly at him, and the voice began whispering.

It was as hideous as the hands, brittle and dry, a kind of guttural hissing in his ears. As the hands pawed at his shoulders and throat and slid through his hair, the voice cackled at him.

"Very pretty...very pretty...all mine now. Don't many come...no, not many...none so pretty... I found it...it's mine...have fun with it...yes, yes, lots of fun."

The hands moved inside his shirt, tearing the fabric with talon-sharp nails. Starbuck lifted his arms to push the thing away, but a heavy blow struck him across the side of the head, setting off new fireworks in his skull. While he was still trying to shake off the dizziness from the blow, the creature bent over him and brushed its hideous mouth against his face.

With a cry of disgust, he twisted away from it and sat up. The next micron, the thing pounced on him, its talons sinking into his throat and its knees digging into his shoulders. It knelt on his chest and clutched at his throat, throttling him with amazingly powerful fingers. A micron before he lost consciousness, the creature seemed to remember its original intentions, and it let go of him. Starbuck gasped for air, grateful to be breathing, even if the foul creature hadn't finished with him.

The thing began touching him again, muttering to itself all the while. Starbuck flinched every time he felt its claws against his skin, utterly repulsed by its presence but too battered and exhausted to fight for the moment. He presumed the thing was female, though he had no proof of this and didn't intend to investigate, but he couldn't think of it as `her'. Gem was `her' or Star or Chryse. Athena with the laughing voice and midnight hair, Cass with the pretty smile, they were women as he understood the word. This thing was a harsh voice and leathery hands, a bundle of iron strength and stale odors. It had no place in his limited frame of reference.

Starbuck didn't understand what the creature was up to; he only knew he wanted it to stop. His unnerving habit of feeling things without understanding them had kicked in again, and though he had no idea what the thing wanted, he knew instinctively that the unfamiliar activity should be associated with pleasant feelings, with anticipation and affection and...Gem!

The name flashed like a beacon in his head, and he suddenly knew exactly what he needed. He needed Gem, right here, right now, to get this disgusting creature away from him and make the pain stop and take him back to his home! The universe seemed to solidify around him as he voiced his need in his head. No more abstract fears or desires - Gem was the key. Security, warmth, pleasure, understanding, they all had a name. Gem. She would help him, as she always did. She would get him out of this and make everything right.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth and shouted her name at the top of his lungs.

Gem and Cassiopeia stood in the lift, watching the numbers of the decks flick by. Cass felt her heart get heavier and heavier as they slid deeper and deeper into the bowels of the ship.

"Why are we going down here, Gem? I don't see any reason for Starbuck to go into the devil's pit."

"He wouldn't have a reason, as we think of it. I'm guessing that he got in and started pushing buttons. For a man who lived the last several yarons in complete isolation, where do you think he'd most likely get out? Someplace busy and noisy, or someplace deserted?"

"But the pit?" Cass shivered. "It's horrid down there!"

"I agree, but I have a hunch we should look there. We've already tried all the reasonable places, and he never came near them. Maybe it's time to stop being reasonable."

"Okay."

The lift stopped, the doors opened, and the two women peered out.

Cass shuddered again. "It's worse than I thought."

Gem only nodded agreement and stepped out of the lift. She concentrated hard, trying to experience this place from a Starbuck's point of view, a confused and ignorant Starbuck, who only wanted a place to be alone. Clicking off her hand lamp, she let the darkness thicken around her for a moment and tried to put herself in Starbuck's skin. He wouldn't have a light – he didn't know what they were – so he'd be moving blind. Follow the rail. She waved Cass forward and pointed to the rail on the right.

"You follow that side, I'll follow this. He kept close to one of them. Shine your light around as you go and see if he left any traces."

"This is crazy, Gem!"

"So I'm crazy. Bear with me." They started off down the catwalk, playing their lights over the mesh under their feet, the cables over their heads, and the deck so far below. After a few centons, they reached a branch in the catwalk.

"Which way?" Cass asked.

"Stick with your railing. I'll go..."

An eerie, terrifying sound suddenly cut her off, echoing through the vast, metallic space. Gem gasped and turned appalled eyes on Cass.

"That's Starbuck!"

"What?!!"

"It's him, I tell you!" A wild glint lit her eyes, and she spun around, searching the darkness with her light. "He's calling me!"

"But..."

They heard it again, this time catching the panic in its tone. It was a formless, wordless cry, but identifiably human and full of fear.

"Which way?! Where did it come from?!"

"I can't tell...the echoes! The left, I think."

"Let's go!"

At Starbuck's cry, the thing cuffed him sharply and hissed a reprimand. It stuffed a grimy piece of fabric in his mouth and told him to keep quiet, but he spat out the rag and called again. Gem had to hear him! She had to!

This time, the creature jammed the rag half down his throat, making him choke and gag. He couldn't spit it out, could barely breathe around it, and the creature had moved its knees to rest on his arms, so he couldn't lift his hand to his mouth. He fought the thing mindlessly, ignoring the crashing pain in his legs, his mind crying Gem's name over and over again.

Booted feet clanged loudly on the catwalk overhead and a light stabbed blindingly down at them, bringing a curse from the creature. It twisted around to stare up at the intruders, then snarled and leapt away from Starbuck. As it disappeared into the emptiness, it reached out one hand and raked its talons across Starbuck's shoulder, digging viciously into the muscle and leaving bloody tracks on his skin. Its departing footsteps were drowned out by the most welcome sound Starbuck had ever heard.

"Starbuck! It's Gem!"

He gave a sob of relief and fell limply back against the deck. Pulling the rag out of his mouth, he spat out a few stray fibers and called to her. The name didn't come out right, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that Gem was here.

"I'll be down as fast as I can, angel! Hold on!" Turning to Cass, she ordered, "Stay here and keep your light on him. We don't want any more visitors."

"Where are you going?"

"To find a way down. As soon as I'm down, you can follow, but don't leave him alone!"

"Hurry, Gem! I don't like being alone here any more than Starbuck does!"

Gem nodded and sprinted down the catwalk. She found an access ladder only fifty paces further along, and she scrambled down as fast as her legs could move. Once on the deck, she trained her light on the catwalk overhead and followed it till she saw the puddle of light cast by Cassiopeia. Abandoning all caution, she ran towards the figure lying in the circle of light.

"Starbuck! It's me!" Sliding to a halt, she fell to her knees beside him. "Are you all right?"

At the sound of her feet on the deck, Starbuck pushed himself up on one elbow and turned to meet her as she came. As she knelt beside him, he reached out a hand in her direction and spoke her name again. The next instant, her arms were around him, pulling him close, and his fastened around her with equal fierceness. He held her with all his strength and felt the fear drain out of him. He knew she'd come.

Cass sprinted over to them and crouched near Starbuck's feet. She cast one glance at them, then focused her attention on a medical scan, not ready to disturb them. They simply held each other, neither one speaking, as if the world would end if they let go. Starbuck's eyes were closed and his face lined with pain, but there was none of the recent childishness in his manner. Something had changed.

A quick scan proved that Starbuck had broken both his legs in the fall from the catwalk, but he was otherwise unhurt. A few odd abrasions marked his shoulders and throat that Cass could only wonder about. She called for a medevac team, then began preparing a painkiller.

Gem saw what she was doing and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing serious. He must have fallen from up there. Both his legs are snapped clean through, and I'm sure they hurt like the devil, but once we get him out of here, Dr. Salik will have him up and around in no time."

Gem breathed a sigh of relief and spoke quietly to Starbuck. "Cass will give you something to cut the pain, love. Then we'll get you out of here. Don't worry; it's nothing we can't fix."

Starbuck nodded tiredly, then let his head drop back to Gem's shoulder.

She stroked his hair comfortingly and murmured, "Will you do me a favor? Next time you go adventuring, tell someone where to find you." Starbuck didn't respond to that, so she continued, "I've been thinking about why you did this. You needed to get away, didn't you?" He nodded slightly. "I've been smothering you. I'm sorry. Sometimes, it's hard for me to remember that I'm a stranger to you. I'm so happy to have you back, that I forget that you don't share my enthusiasm. You came down here for peace and quiet...to escape from me."

Starbuck lifted his head and gazed up at her. She could read conflicting emotions in his face but couldn't sort them out. His one word vocabulary didn't allow him to explain, so he could only shake his head.

"I'll try to remember that you need time. I won't crowd you anymore, I promise."

At that, Starbuck frowned and shook his head. Tightening his arms around her, he gave her a quick hug, mumbled her name again and settled against her shoulder with a grateful sigh.

Gem smiled and blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. "I love you, Starbuck. I hope some day you can love me back."


	3. Chapter 3

Starbuck found himself walking back to his quarters, a bit unsteady on his feet but perfectly healthy, less than a centar after Gem had first found him. He didn't know what Salik had done to him, but it had made his legs good as new. Gem walked beside him, her arm loosely circling his waist, without speaking. He could sense that she had something on her mind, but he couldn't frame the words to ask her what it was, so he let her think in peace.

He had some things to chew over himself, after the day's events. While certain things had become brilliantly clear, others were even murkier than before. His encounter with the creature had called up conflicting, troubling emotions in him and left him tormented by questions he couldn't ask. The only thing he knew for sure was that Gem had the answers - to everything.

Once the door to their suite closed behind them, Gem shook off her pensive mood and turned to smile at Starbuck. Her gaze raked his torn, blood-spattered shirt, and she grimaced.

"That thing is going in the trash, my dear. It is beyond repair." She shoved him toward the bedroom, then trailed more slowly after him. The state of his clothing bothered her. She wished she could ask him what had happened down there in the devil's pit. "You don't look too great. Could you use some sleep?"

Starbuck sank down on the edge of the mattress and nodded tiredly. The traces of painkillers in his system made him lightheaded. He stripped off his shirt and bent to pull off his boots, but had to sit up abruptly when the room began to spin around him. Gem hurried over in alarm, but one glance told her what was wrong.

"Let me do that, love." She crouched on the floor and tugged his boots off, then collected the mangled shirt and headed for the locker. "Pile into bed and sleep off that drug." When she turned back around, Starbuck was still sitting up, gazing at the deck with a worried frown on his face. "Starbuck? Is something wrong?"

He looked up as she approached and held out his hand to her. When she took it, he clasped her hand in both of his, turned it over, studied it, traced the contours of it with light fingers. Very slowly, he lifted her hand and rested it against his face, then he turned to press his lips to her palm, and his eyes closed.

Gem could only stand there and hold her breath, too stunned to move. She was frantically trying to decide how to react when Starbuck suddenly stood up. He planted himself facing her, less than an arm's length away, and gazed steadily at her, his eyes unreadable. She met his shadowed gaze and waited.

For several slow microns he did not move. Then he lifted her hand again, but this time, he brushed her fingertips over the livid bruise at the base of his throat. She had not noticed before, in the confusion, that his neck was decorated with bruises and nail marks. Someone had tried to strangle him.

She looked up at him, a word of comfort and reassurance on her lips, but the expression on his face stopped her. He looked strange, intent and very serious, but with no trace of fear or pain. Gem looked back down at her own hand, his fingers clasping it very gently, and felt a prickle of electricity run up her arm.

In the madness since his return, Starbuck had been continually in her company, but never really with her. Now, for a precious, delicate moment, they were truly and completely together. He was standing there, so still, so close. His bare chest rose and fell slightly with his breathing, and her fingers could feel the pulse in his throat. If she simply leaned forward, just a bit...

Her lips touched the bruise in a feather-light caress, and her fingers slid along his collarbone till they found the set of bloody scratches on his shoulder. His breathing quickened, but he made no move or sound. Taking his silence as acceptance, Gem closed her eyes and abandoned herself to the sheer, ecstatic pleasure of touching him.

Her lips found each bruise and cut, while her hands slid luxuriously over his chest and shoulders. She caressed his ribcage, her fingers tracing the whip scars on his back, and turned her head to bury her face in his loose hair. Tears trickled slowly from her eyes to dampen the gold strands. With a tremulous sigh, she mustered the courage to speak to him and break the spell.

"Starbuck...Starbuck, do you remember me?"

He shook his head reluctantly, and Gem stepped back to stare up at him in confusion.

"Then what...I don't understand."

Starbuck pinned her with his deep blue eyes, willing her to understand him. Tapping his right temple, he shook his head. Then he caught her by the arms, his fingers firm but gentle, and nodded.

"What are you trying to tell me?"

He shrugged and clenched his fists in frustration, then tried again. First he pointed at her, then he pointed to himself, tapping his head and his chest.

Gem just stared at him, baffled, then a thought occurred to her. "You don't remember me, but you remember something..." He shook his head. "You don't remember. You...know? Feel?" Starbuck nodded emphatically and rested his fingertip against her breastbone. "You don't remember me, but you still feel things for me. They couldn't erase your emotions."

She reached up to touch his face, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks, and asked, "Do you know what I mean when I say I love you?"

He nodded, his hands moving to clasp her throat and his thumbs lifting her chin. Gem brought her lips to his in a soft, undemanding kiss, waiting to see how he would react. Starbuck did not remember specifically what to do, but the intense emotions boiling in him did not need conscious instructions. His answering kiss may have lacked finesse, but the passion in his touch was unmistakable.

"Starbuck," she gasped, her lips still touching his, "do you love me?"

He didn't bother to answer, just deepened the kiss, taking her breath away with the raw sensuality of his touch. He deftly opened the fastenings of her coveralls, and Gem shrugged her arms free of the sleeves. Locking her arms around his neck, she leaned her bare torso against his and kissed him with single-minded ferocity. Starbuck followed her lead, responding with innate skill, losing himself in the forgotten, yet familiar, feel of her.

A gentle push from Gem tipped him over onto the bed, where he lay waiting for some sign from her. Gem paused to kick off her boots and step out of her coveralls, then crawled onto the mattress beside him. With a throaty purr of delight, she dropped her head to rest on his gently rising and falling midriff. Her hair spilled in a velvet mass across his chest while her hands and lips strayed over his stomach and ribs.

The sudden weight of his hand on her head startled her, and she glanced up at him. His fingers slid around behind her skull, buried deep in her thick hair, and his thumb stroked her cheek lightly. She heard him whisper her name in his odd, formless way, and she straightened up so that her head was level with his.

"This game has no rules and no instructions, Starbuck. Do what you feel, and everything will come out right."

He nodded and tightened his hold on her, forcing her to bend down where he could kiss her. As she sank willingly into his embrace, he shifted his weight onto one hip and rolled her effortlessly onto her back. Now it was his turn to experiment and explore.

Some distant corner of Starbuck's brain recognized the caresses they exchanged as akin to the vile gropings of the creature in the devil's pit, and he began to understand the creature's behavior. But as he had expected, Gem was the true source of such impulses, the only one whose hands had a right to touch him, whose body belonged close to his. She was quickly driving away all memory of the thing in the pit, just as she was explaining what had happened.

This warm, exciting, entrancing body was strangely familiar to him. He had a vague sense that it somehow belonged to him, that Gem herself somehow belonged to him, and the nameless power it had over him was right, just as the brutal advances of the creature were wrong. He desperately wanted to remember Gem, to really remember her not merely feel her hold over him. He needed to know where she fit in his life and he in hers. He needed to understand what was happening to him here, in her arms.

While these thoughts bubbled quietly in the back of his mind, the rest of him was happily burning in the fire he knew as Gem. She seared his skin with her touch, her naked body clung to his tormentingly, and she seemed to be creating the unbearable, irresistible pressure in him that was driving him mad with frustration.

She kissed him again, her mouth fierce and demanding on his, then broke away and gasped, "Make love to me, Starbuck."

He lifted his head, taken aback and briefly panicked at his lack of understanding. What did she want from him?

"Don't think about it, just do it. Let your body remember." Lifting her mouth to his, she kissed him savagely and whispered in her odd, husky voice, "I need you. Now!"

Starbuck gave a sob of frustration and dropped his head to bury his face in the tumbled mass of her hair. He couldn't disappoint her! Not Gem, of all people! Fear clutched ruthlessly at him.

Then he felt it; Gem's body was moving against his in a strangely familiar rhythm. The rhythm filled his head and his muscles, driving out all rational thought. Starbuck let it pulse through him for a moment, then he let go of the fear, let go of his mind altogether, and let his body remember.

As the passion burned hotter around and through him, and as they moved together toward the goal he could not yet identify, he finally understood one vital thing. He did not need to remember Gem; he was Gem. For these few, precious, ecstatic microns, they fused into a single entity with a single overwhelming purpose. When the storm broke, he could only hold her with all his strength and pray that their single heart could stand the strain.

Then, suddenly, it was over and the crashing waves were quiet. Starbuck became slowly aware that he was breathing with his own lungs again, his mind back in his own skull. They were separate people again, and the pain of that separation cut to his heart. He gave a small sob and buried his face in Gem's damp hair.

She lay beneath him, still breathing in deep, shuddering gasps, her face slick with tears. His strange mood took a moment to penetrate the smoldering haze that filled her brain, but when she heard his little sob of pain, she snapped suddenly alert. 

Lifting her hands to cradle his head, she whispered, "What's wrong, angel?"

His only answer was to tighten his arms around her till she could hardly breathe. Gem managed to twist onto her side without breaking his grip on her, then she took a good look at him. For a moment, she couldn't remember when she had seen that expression on his face before, then it came to her. He'd looked just like that after the very first time they made love.

"Starbuck, if you squeeze me this hard, I'll suffocate. It's all right, angel, I'm not going anywhere." He reluctantly loosened his hold a bit, and she reached behind him to pull the bedcover free. When they were wrapped in a quilted cocoon, she settled his head on her shoulder, put her arms around him, and began talking in her lowest, most soothing voice.

"I understand how you feel; I feel it, too. It's incredible, isn't it? When we melt right into each other and become one person for a moment? You're the only man who's ever done that to me, and with you, it happens every time." He looked a question at her and she chuckled. "Oh, yes! It will happen again! You see, you don't have to be sad. I know it's painful to break apart again, but we can have a repeat performance whenever the urge takes you. I never could say 'no' to you."

She got a distant, rather serious look on her face and added, "I never told you this before, but I believe that we never really do go completely separate again, once we touch that deeply." Starbuck lifted his head and frowned questioningly at her. "I believe our souls touch, and they stay together, in both of us at once. Do you think I'm crazy?" He shook his head. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" He shook it again, and she smiled wryly at him. 

"Maybe I am crazy, but I can't help believing that some part of you stays forever in me, even though we can't stay together as one soul forever. Of course," she added dryly, "sometimes I have tangible proof that part of you sticks around."

Starbuck gave her that confused look again, and she explained, "This is how we make children. Star and Chryse were both conceived when we made love, just like we did today."

Gem was getting fairly adept at translating his expressions, so when he looked quizzically at her, she knew what he was asking.

"You want to know if we made another baby just now, right?" He nodded. "I don't know, angel. We'll have to wait and see. If we did, my body will eventually tell me. Does that worry you?"

He thought about that one for a micron, obviously not sure how to answer. Finally, he shook his head.

"Would you like another child?"

That one he had no trouble with. He nodded emphatically, a hopeful light in his eyes. Gem laughed and kissed him.

"I'm glad, because I'm prone to having babies, and I'd hate to cut back on our fun, for fear of making more of them! You're such a temptation, such a delicious, beautiful, irresistible..." She broke off to concentrate on kissing him and felt him respond with instant heat.

His one lesson had served him well, and there was no hesitation in his advances. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew precisely where and how to touch her. With his hands and lips moving maddeningly over her body, Gem could close her eyes and forget that the last three yarons had ever happened. This was the Starbuck she remembered – the man who seduced her and satisfied her with consummate skill and artistry. He knew her body better than she did herself and demanded responses from it that she had never imagined till he touched her. And he was back from the dead for her. Her own, private miracle.

He took her quickly and fiercely, this time completely in control. Their souls touched again, then reluctantly parted, and they collapsed in each other's arms.

Between gasping breaths, Gem purred, "I love you, Starbuck, even when you grab me and empty me like a bottle of ambrosia. My beautiful barbarian."

Starbuck looked down at her with a possessive, smug glint in his eye, then he suddenly flashed his boyish grin at her and the image vanished. The rapacious barbarian was once again her sweet, somewhat befuddled angel, gazing innocently at her through a rumpled curtain of honey-gold hair.

Gem growled at him in mock anger, then reached up to brush the hair from his eyes. "You can go all savage and overbearingly male on me any time you want, just don't start dragging me around by the hair. I do have my limits."

Surprise and doubt clouded his gaze, and he fingered a lock of her auburn hair uncertainly.

"Forget it. That one will have to wait till you get your memory back. Speaking of which!" Gem bolted upright in bed, tumbling Starbuck backward onto the mattress. He blinked at her in surprise, more interested in her naked torso than in the words that tumbled excitedly from her lips. "I was talking to Salik in the lab, and he thinks he's found a way to remove your memory block! I told him about your dreams, and he thinks... Starbuck?"

Her husband glanced up questioningly at the sound of his name, but the innocent, distracted look in his eyes told her that he had understood little or none of what she said.

She grinned lopsidedly. "Forget it. I'll just make the arrangements and let Salik explain it to you." She squirmed as Starbuck's finger traced a ticklish path down from her shoulder to her breast, and he leaned close to plant a kiss on the inward curve of her waist. "You always did have a one-track mind," she chuckled. "Even the cylons couldn't change that."

Starbuck just gave her that smug smile again and went back to dropping kisses anywhere the urge took him.

*** *** ***

Salik buzzed open the door and ushered Starbuck out of the cubicle into a crowd of anxious friends. The lieutenant scanned their worried faces, and a flood of relief and excitement washed over him. He recognized them! All of them! And he could put a name to every face.

Each of them wanted to talk to him, to ask a thousand questions he couldn't answer, but he only wanted to find one familiar figure in the mob. Gem felt a brief moment of panic, as he hunted through the gathered faces for a glimpse of her, and she tried to hide behind Apollo. What if it hadn't worked? What if his memory of her was gone forever, taken by the cylons and destroyed for their amusement? Then he found her. His eyes locked on hers, and a smile of pure joy lit his face.

Summoning all her courage, she stepped to the front of the group. "Did it work? Do you remember?" she asked, in a breathless whisper.

He didn't bother to answer her, just swept her up in his arms and held her so tightly she felt her ribs creak. She pushed slightly away, so she could see his face, and gasped,

"Oh please, Starbuck, please! Tell me you remember!"

He nodded emphatically, then pulled her close again and kissed her. When he had finished, he tossed her up in the air, caught her, and set her laughing on her feet. Gem clung to him with all her strength, still laughing and weeping with relief.

"Thank God! Thank God!"

Salik smiled with fatherly indulgence at the two of them and remarked, "Starbuck and I did have a little to do with it."

"Of course you did." She collected herself enough to wipe the tears from her cheeks and hold out her hand to the grinning doctor. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. The session went very smoothly. Starbuck was on the verge of breaking the memory block himself; we just gave it an extra push."

"And you got it all back?"

"Ask Starbuck."

Apollo turned hopeful, worried eyes on his old friend and demanded, "What do you remember, Starbuck?"

Starbuck opened his mouth to speak, realized that he had no way to communicate his answer, and shut his mouth again with a snap. He shrugged helplessly at Apollo. The commander tried another approach.

"You remember Gem, but do you remember anything else? The kids?" That earned a definite nod. "What about earlier - the Academy, the Colonies, your life before the cylons destroyed our home?"

Starbuck nodded again, but Salik stepped in to forestall any more questions. "You can't effectively test his memory with endless yes or no questions, and I know you all want to talk to him. There must be a better way to do this."

It was Cassiopeia who offered a solution. She moved over to the nearest computer terminal and logged it on. "Starbuck, how are your typing skills?"

Gem followed him over to the terminal and pulled up a chair for him. "Better get ready for a marathon session. I can see questions just bursting out of them."

"I'll start with some basic memory checks," Salik insisted. "The rest of you, keep quiet and give Starbuck a chance to sort things out. Ready, Lieutenant?"

__

YES!

Everyone laughed, and Salik slapped him companionably on the shoulder. "It's been a while since you had a real conversation with anyone, hasn't it?"

__

A lifetime. 

"Do you know how long you've been gone?"

__

No. No chrons on the prison planet.

"It's been three yarons."

Starbuck just stared blankly at the terminal, his face gone tired and sad. After a long, silent moment, he typed out, _So long. I had no idea. Chryse was only a few sectons old_.

"She's over three, now. And Star is four."

__

All grown up. I missed so much of their lives.

"But you have much more still to look forward to. Be grateful they got you back at all."

"And that you can remember them," Gem added softly.

__

Yes. Let's go see them.

"Soon. We need to know more about your memory block, and the cylons and..."

"Slow down, Gem. One question at a time. Starbuck, do you remember where you were born?"

He smiled and started to type quickly, his gloom evaporating as he sorted through the welcome memories he had so recently rediscovered. _Caprica, on the outskirts of the Black forest. Parents killed by cylons when I was too young to really remember. Found a new family in the Academy...Apollo, Boomer, Jolly, Greenbean, all the pilots I trained with. Then the Galactica and Blue Squadron. This was home even before the Colonies were destroyed._

"You remember all about the Peace talks and the betrayal?"

__

Baltar. I should have killed him when I had the chance.

"And since then?"

__

The search for Earth...Commander Cain and Sheba...Iblis...what do you want to know?

"Are there any blank spots or any memories that feel incomplete?"

__

Nothing. It's all right back up here, where it belongs.

Apollo moved up beside Salik and cleared his throat nervously. "I need to know what happened with the cylons, Starbuck. What do you remember about your capture?"

__

Complete report?

"No, just tell us. I'll get an official report from you later."

__

Phalanx of raiders came out of the atmosphere of the planet and surrounded me. Jammed all transmissions, forced me to follow them to base star. They put me in the brig...sectons, don't know exactly how long. A very long time. Then the mining camp.

"What happened on the Base Star."

__

The usual.

"Tell us about it."

__

Rather not.

"Was it on the Base Star or the mining planet that they tortured you?"

__

Base Star.

"Do you remember?"

__

Yes.

"Do you remember how you got from the Base Star to the planet?"

__

No. Things get fuzzy after the injections...I lost it for awhile.

"What injections?"

Salik asked, "Starbuck, do you mean the corrosive they injected into your brain?"

__

Is that what it was?

"It ate away the coating on your nerve endings and damaged the speech center of your brain. From what I can tell, it was injected through your temple into the brain tissue."

__

Yes, I remember that part. After that, I start forgetting.

"Did they drug you?" Apollo continued.

__

I don't think so.

"Then what happened?"

Starbuck paused for a moment, trying to formulate an answer that would mean anything to his friend. _It's hard to think when something's eating at your brain. It took a long, long time and hurt for a long time afterward. I think maybe I went crazy for awhile. Then I woke up on the prison planet, and my head was empty._

Apollo took a deep breath to calm his racing pulse and heaving stomach, then asked in as normal a tone as he could muster, "So they did the memory block right before they dumped you in the mining camp?"

__

I guess so. Just one day I was there, and I'd never been anywhere else. I didn't know anything, understand anything they said, remember who I was supposed to be. It's a very weird feeling.

Starbuck looked up at the group of suddenly sad and silent friends and smiled a bit wistfully at them. Thousands of things needed saying, but he couldn't type fast enough to say them all. The words just started tumbling out of his fingers, and he let them come, hoping they would make sense.

__

I can't tell you how good it feels to be talking to you again...I wish I really could talk to you...my head is crammed with things I want to say, but they don't sound right when I can't really say them...you look the same but not the same...You all must have changed so much! I must have changed.

The planet was lonely. Nothing's quite as lonely as having nothing in your head to keep you company. Part of me knew something was missing but didn't know what...just felt empty and sad all the time. My head isn't empty anymore. It's full of everything I was missing before, and it feels wonderful! I never want to forget another thing as long as I live! Your voices are the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. 

As he stalled out and sat staring numbly at the keyboard, Athena stepped forward and spoke to him in a timid, subdued tone. "Starbuck, do you remember me, too?"

He looked up at her, startled, and promptly stood up to pull her close in a warm hug. Giving her a friendly kiss on the cheek, he sat down again and wrote,

__

Lovely Athena...always so patient and forgiving.

She laughed and remarked, "Maybe you don't remember me!"

__

More patient and forgiving than I ever deserved, anyway.

Cassiopeia spoke up from her post beside the terminal, "What about me?"

__

Cassiopeia... He just gazed at her for a silent centon, then added, _I'm sorry._

That brought a misty smile to her face, and she shook her head. "No, don't ever apologize to me. I'm just glad you're back, Starbuck. Welcome home."

Starbuck went quickly around the group, identifying and acknowledging his old friends with a smile and a word or two.

__

Boomer...best wingman in the fleet. Sheba...Commander Cain with a pretty face. Tigh...the perfect officer. Apollo...is just Apollo.

"Not anymore," Athena murmured.

Starbuck looked questioningly at her, wearing a confused frown. She sat down on the edge of the computer console and said, "You were right that we've changed. Many things have changed."

__

Apollo? What's wrong?

"You, uh, you weren't the only person we lost over the last three yarons, Bucko." Apollo stared morosely at the toes of his highly polished boots, consumed by the helpless anger that always took him at the thought of his father. "Commander Adama died more than a yaron ago. I command the _Galactica_ now."

Starbuck looked stunned, more shaken by the news of Adama's death than at the realization of how long he had been missing himself. He automatically reached for Gem's hand and held it tightly for reassurance.

Apollo made a concerted effort to shake off his own melancholy. "I sure did need you this last yaron, trying to fill my father's shoes. I missed hearing your skewed perspective on reality. But now you're back, and you can help me keep this wreck of a fleet flying in a straight line."

__

I'm sorry, Apollo. It never occurred to me...I thought he'd live forever.

"That's what we all thought. Some others have gone, too."

__

Who?

"Dietra. Bojay. Jolly was hurt and has been put on the inactive list." At Starbuck's stricken look, he punched him on the shoulder and said, "Cheer up, the news isn't all bad! Boomer and Sheba are married."

Starbuck brightened immediately. _Congrats! About time, you two._

"You'll meet the newest member of our family," Boomer assured him. "He's Star's best friend, so he spends a lot of time in your quarters."

__

A son? Keep that kid away from my daughter!

"Relax," Gem laughed. "Static is a very sweet, very young boy. Star thinks he's a toy."

__

Any child of Boomer's is dangerous. Gem, can we go home and see the girls now?

Gem looked questioningly at Salik and Apollo. "Any more official business to take care of, gentlemen?"

"I don't think so." Salik took Starbuck's hand as he stood up and shook it warmly. "Welcome back, Lieutenant! I couldn't be more pleased with the way things worked out."

Starbuck shook his hand, then waved a farewell to the group in general. Slipping his hand into Gem's, he urged her toward the door. Gem obligingly walked with him to the lift and punched in the correct level, then turned and put her hands on his shoulders.

"I didn't get to say it back there, with all those people around, so I will now. Welcome home, my love!" Her lips touched his in a gentle kiss, but Starbuck pulled her quickly into his arms and heated it up. They were still locked together, completely absorbed in each other, when the lift eased to a halt.

Starbuck reluctantly broke the embrace and stepped back. Gem sighed in frustration and disappointment, but she understood how anxious he was to see the children again, now that he really remembered them. His eyes were gleaming with excitement as he nearly dragged her down the corridor to their now-familiar quarters.

Inside, the main room was empty, and the sound of childish laughter carried from the bedroom. Gem keyed the door shut and called,

"Star! Chryse! Come in here!"

The two girls scampered into the room, calling, "Mama! Mama's home!" They both hesitated in the doorway when they realized Starbuck was with her, not sure how to approach him. His moods were unpredictable, and they rarely spoke to him unless they had to.

At the arrival of the two children, Starbuck turned anxious eyes on them and smiled tentatively. He knew that he had frightened and confused them since his return, and he had no way to explain why, but he desperately wanted his daughters back and would find a way to heal the breach. His sanity depended on it.

His smile reassured Star, and she murmured self-consciously, "Hello, Daddy."

Starbuck knelt swiftly and held out his hand to her. She sidled cautiously across the room, one eye on her mother for support and the other on the man waiting for her. She stopped in front of him, paused to take stock of the situation, then laid her hand in his. Starbuck drew her a few steps closer and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders.

Gem had forgotten how much alike they were till she saw them facing each other, both still and reserved, waiting for some sign from the other. Star had her father's eyes, his high forehead, strong cheekbones, firm chin and beautiful mouth. When she smiled, she revealed matching dimples, and when she frowned, she got the same crease between her eyebrows. Her long hair was soft, pale yellow, but would inevitably darken to his warm, gold-streaked shade. She truly was his little clone.

The standoff lasted for nearly a centon, till Star suddenly twisted around and demanded of her mother, "What happened to Daddy? He's different."

Starbuck forestalled Gem's answer with a raised hand, drawing Star's attention back to him. Moving slowly and concentrating all his energy on willing her to understand, he pointed to her, then tapped his temple with one fingertip. 

Star frowned doubtfully at him. "Are you trying to talk to me, Daddy?" He nodded. "But you never did before. How come now?"

She watched him repeat the simple gestures, still frowning, and shook her head. "I wish you could talk to me."

Starbuck shrugged and shook his head.

"Hey!" She turned startled eyes on Gem and announced, "Daddy answered me! He never answers me!" She grinned up at him triumphantly. "You woke up!"

Starbuck thought about that cryptic remark for a moment, then nodded agreement.

"D'you remember me?"

A relieved smile swept over his face, and he nodded emphatically.

"What's my name?"

Starbuck looked around helplessly, then sat down on the floor and patted the smooth surface to attract her attention. He very slowly traced her name on the deck with his fingertip, waiting for her to identify each letter before continuing. Star spelled out the name, then crowed with delight.

"You do remember!" Her gaze sobered almost at once, and she added, "but you still can't talk."

Starbuck shook his head.

"Dr. Salik didn't fix you?"

"There are some things even Dr. Salik can't fix," Gem told her.

Star gazed sadly up at him. "I thought you were gonna be all fixed." Starbuck shrugged helplessly, his eyes pleading with her to understand. She leaned her head on his shoulder and asked, "Will you ever learn to talk again?"

"We'll have to see, honey. And be patient." Gem gave her a firm, quelling look and added, "No nagging!"

Star considered her mother's words, wearing a frown that exactly matched Starbuck's. After a moment's thought, she wrapped both arms around Starbuck's neck and hugged him. "I'm glad you woke up, Daddy."

Chryse watched the big sister she idolized put her arms around the stranger she distrusted, and sidled close to her mother for reassurance. Star seemed delighted that the stranger knew her again, but Chryse wasn't at all sure that this was a good thing. So far, her experiences with this entity called Daddy had not been particularly satisfying, and she didn't like the changes in her family since his arrival.

Serious gray eyes studied them for a silent centon, then she turned to look up at her mother and remarked, "Sad."

"What's sad, honey?"

She pointed at Starbuck and repeated, "Daddy sad."

"No, Daddy's not sad; he's very happy."

"Crying."

"Sometimes, people are so happy it makes them cry."

Chryse gave a dissatisfied grunt and asked, "Mama cry?"

"Sometimes. Will you go say hello to your daddy?"

Starbuck glanced up and smiled wistfully at Chryse. She backed up against her mother's legs and announced, 

"No. Not my daddy, Star's daddy."

Gem crouched beside the child and clasped her shoulders with firm hands. "Starbuck is your father, too, Chryse. You don't remember him, because he went away right after you were born, but he is your father."

Chryse's eyes were deeply suspicious, and she shot a darkling look at the unwelcome stranger. His shocked, horrified expression seemed to have no effect on her. Her face was closed and distant.

Starbuck felt helpless and desperate, as if someone had just slid a knife between his ribs and he couldn't reach it to pull it out. His daughter, whom he only remembered as a newborn infant, neither knew him nor trusted him. He had no way to reach her or reassure her. Defeated, he sat down on the floor and covered his face with his hands.

"My daddy?"

Starbuck looked up at the sound of her voice and nodded.

"Come back?"

He nodded again.

"Say something." Starbuck just stared at her helplessly, and her voice took on a panicked edge. "Say something!"

"Stop it, Chryse! Behave yourself," Gem insisted.

"Say something! Not my daddy! You don't 'member me, only Star! Go away! _Go away_!"

Gem swept Chryse up in her arms and carried her, squirming and howling, into the bedroom. Starbuck just sat, with his elbows propped on his knees and his face buried in his hands, silently weeping. Star watched the room explode around her, her eyes wild with confusion and fear, and stood in the middle of it wringing her hands. As her mother disappeared into the back room with Chryse, she turned to stare disconsolately at her father.

"Daddy?" He didn't answer, so she moved closer and slipped one arm around his neck. "Daddy, please don't listen to Chryse. Please don't!"

Starbuck lifted his head and turned his defeated gaze on her.

"I don't want you to go away!" She sniffled and a fat tear rolled down her cheek. "I love you. I want you to stay."

Starbuck reached out to touch her face, caressing her cheek with gentle fingers. He didn't quite smile, but the pain in his face softened.

"Will you go away again?" He shook his head. "Will you remember me always?" He nodded. "And stay with me always?"

Starbuck gave a little gasp of relief and pulled her close. Holding her fragile little body as tightly as he could helped ease some of the aching in his chest, but then he'd hear Chryse's angry, frightened voice in his ears, and the hurt would redouble. Knowing that his own daughter hated him was more than he could bear.

The chron above the bed had just chimed the sixth centar of the watch, the dead of night, when a sudden cry disturbed the silence. Both Gem and Starbuck were jolted awake, and sat up to stare uncomprehendingly at the darkness. A second cry, followed by a terrified sobbing told them what had awakened them, and Gem shoved back the covers to investigate.

Starbuck's hand on her arm halted her.

"That's Chryse. She must be having a nightmare."

Starbuck nodded and slid his feet to the floor. His gesture told her to wait there, and he shrugged on a wrap as he moved to the door of the girls' bedroom. Gem watched him slip into the room, then lay back down and pulled the quilt up to her chin. By the time he returned, she was fast asleep again.

The next morning, Starbuck sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots, when the soft pad of bare feet on the deck distracted him. He looked up to find Chryse standing in the doorway. Serious blue eyes, set beneath a rumpled mop of copper curls, studied him for a moment, then a timid voice said, "'Morning, Daddy."

He smiled sweetly at her and bent to finish pulling on his boot. She darted across the room and hesitated at the edge of the bed. After a moment of consideration, she risked climbing up on the mattress beside him and sat down with a judicious distance between them.

"Busy today?" He shook his head. "Will you play with me?" He nodded and ruffled her curls with a gentle hand. Chryse gave a muted chuckle and went so far as to lean her head against him, rubbing her face against his linen shirt.

Gem walked in and stopped dead, surprised by the sight of Chryse tucked under Starbuck's arm, her face placid and content. As she watched, the child yawned and let her eyes droop shut, then she reached her arms as far around Starbuck's waist as she could and leaned trustingly against him. Starbuck tightened his hold on Chryse and reached over with his free hand to cradle her head.

"Good morning, you two," Gem said. "It's time to eat." She held out her hand for Chryse, but the child ignored her. As Starbuck rose to his feet, she stood on the mattress and reached up her arms for a ride, clutching at his sleeve. He obligingly scooped her up and headed for the door. 

As they disappeared into the other room, and Chryse's chuckle drifted back to her, Gem could only shake her head and think, 'Damned if that man couldn't charm the devil out of Hell.'


	4. Chapter 4

The buzz of the comm sounded unnaturally loud in the studious silence. Starbuck glanced up from his computer screen for a micron, not sure if Gem was still at her desk in the outer room. When the irritating noise cut out, and the murmur of Gem's voice reached him, he went back to his reading. A centon later, she appeared in the doorway, wearing a distracted frown. 

"Salik needs us in Life Center."

His startled expression asked her, quite clearly, _Why?_

"Croft thinks he may have found the thing that attacked you, down in the devil's pit."

Starbuck shuddered slightly, his features tightening with some emotion Gem couldn't name, and his suddenly shadowed eyes dropped to avoid hers. She crossed the room to his desk and watched as he closed the file he'd been reading. With a blank screen in front of him, he typed out, _What do you need me for?_

"To identify it."

__

It was pitch dark down there. I never saw its face.

"Any little thing you remember could..."

__

I don't think I can help, he typed quickly, cutting her off.

Gem's frown deepened. "Don't you want to know for sure if we've caught the right person...or whatever it is?"

He shook his head emphatically. _If you're so curious about the creature, talk to it._

"We can't. It's dead."

__

Dead? Starbuck glanced up at her, unaccountably upset by this news. _How?_

"Croft killed it, accidentally, while he was trying to capture it."

__

What was he doing down there, anyway? Starbuck demanded.

"I asked him to find it."

__

Why didn't you talk to me, first? Why didn't you ask me if I wanted it found?

The anger in his face bewildered his wife. "I don't understand! What did I do to upset you so much? I only wanted to catch the thing that attacked you and find out who or what it was! Is that so terrible?"

__

I just wish you'd left well enough alone. It wasn't hurting anyone, hiding out down there in the dark. 

"It hurt you."

__

No, it didn't. Not really. 

"Starbuck, it tried to kill you!"

__

I don't think so. He stared grimly at his hands on the keyboard, a dark and difficult memory plain in his face._ It wanted something else._

Gem now looked thoroughly confused, both by Starbuck's words and his bleak mood. "What did it want?" she asked, mystified.

__

'It' was a 'she', he answered, hesitantly._ I think she planned to rape me._

Gem's breath hissed between her teeth, and her fists clenched reflexively. "What?! Why didn't you tell me this?!"

He looked up at her and shrugged._ I didn't know what she was doing, and I had no way to tell you, even if I had understood. By the time I figured it out...it didn't seem to matter anymore._

"It sure as hell matters to me!" 

__

She didn't mean to hurt me, Gem. And she taught me something.

"About what?" Gem ground out, her voice dripping with bitterness and frustration. "Sexual brutality? That was a lesson you could have done without!"

__

About love. 

Gem swallowed the hard knot of pain in her throat and asked, "What does rape have to do with love?"

__

Nothing. Starbuck's eyes softened, and he reached out to catch her hand in gentle fingers. After a still moment, during which he felt the rigidity drain from her body and her fingers tighten around his, he squeezed her hand lightly and let go of it to continue. 

__

I don't know exactly how to explain this, but what she did to me made me feel things. Things that I knew belonged to you, even if I couldn't remember why. From the centon I woke up afraid, in pain, with that disgusting creature pawing at me, all I could think of was finding you again. I knew you'd protect me, take the pain away, and take me home where I was safe. I knew, somehow, you'd help me understand the things I was feeling. And you did.

"When we made love?"

__

Yes, but even before that. When I heard your voice calling me, chasing her away, when I saw you running toward me...I finally understood what you meant when you said you loved me. 

Gem just stared at him, her eyes bright with tears.

__

She helped me find my way back, Gem. I know she was a sick, disgusting, brutal creature. I know she nearly raped me and even more nearly killed me. But I can't hate her.

The doctor gazed blindly at his words on the computer screen, fighting tears, her mind trying to grapple with the bizarre revelation that Starbuck was grateful to his attacker. She could not feel gratitude, or even pity, for the abominable creature that had done such violence to him. She could not be sorry that it was dead. But she understood his feelings and, strangely enough, respected them.

After a long, silent struggle, she murmured, "I'm going to Life Center. What do you want me to do about...about her?"

He shrugged sadly._ Don't let them do anything nasty to her. Just let her be. _

Gem stared down at the huddled form on the gurney, trying to see it through Starbuck's eyes. It was obviously female, but extreme age, malnutrition and years of grime had destroyed nearly all traces of humanity. As a doctor, she should have felt pity or regret at the sight of this shapeless bundle of tattered cloth and desiccated flesh. Instead, she felt only detached revulsion. 

Croft, Apollo and Salik were all waiting for some comment from her. She could feel their eyes boring into her back. Without lifting her gaze from the dreadful object in front of her, she asked, quietly, "How did it happen?"

"She jumped me, up on the catwalk," Croft explained.

"Hm. Just like Starbuck."

The security officer nodded grimly, his own eyes moving toward the dead creature, dwelling on the unnatural angle of its head against the cushions. "I threw her off, and she hit the railing. Snapped her neck clean through." At Gem's grim frown, he added, "I'm sorry, Doctor. I didn't mean to kill her."

"You had to defend yourself." She rubbed her eyes tiredly and turned her back on the gurney. "I wish that Starbuck had been able to do as much, then none of this would have happened."

Cassiopeia materialized beside her, eyes bright with sympathetic tears, and clasped her shoulder in comfort. "At least the mystery is solved and Starbuck's attacker is caught."

"We don't know that, for sure."

"Yes, we do," Salik assured her. "We found Starbuck's skin under her fingernails. Perfect genetic match."

Gem shuddered and clenched her eyes shut. The bloody scratches on Starbuck's shoulder, torn by those grotesquely curved, yellowed nails, had only just healed, leaving vivid scars. Gem could still remember running her fingers over the scratches, wondering how he'd gotten them, wishing she could read his mind and uncover the truth about his encounter in the devil's pit. Well, now she knew, and she had no one but herself to blame, if the truth was unpalatable.

"Doctor?" 

Croft's gruff voice recalled her to her surroundings. She glanced up at him, fighting back the shadows to focus on his familiar face. 

"Are you satisfied, Doctor?" She nodded. "Then I'll consider the matter closed."

For the first time, Apollo spoke up. "I wonder who she was?" he murmured, thoughtfully, gazing down at the still form with no emotion in his eyes. "All those people down there...those outcasts...they're hardly human anymore. But they weren't always that way. What was she, before she disappeared into the devil's pit?"

"Give me a little time, and I can probably tell you that, Commander."

Salik reached for a scalpel, but when he made a move toward the body, Gem held out her hand to stop him. 

"No! Don't mutilate the body. Please." Everyone gaped at her in surprise. "Starbuck doesn't want her...disturbed."

"I'll just run a few tests. Take some tissue samples." Salik cocked his head at her, his eyes narrowed speculatively. "I won't mutilate her."

"Thank you." Gem turned to Apollo and fixed him with a carefully neutral gaze. "When Salik is finished, what do you plan to do with her?"

"I hadn't made any plans."

"Will you..." She broke off, struggling against conflicting emotions. After a tense micron, loyalty to her husband overrode her own revulsion, and she continued, "Will you allow me to arrange a quiet, civilized burial for her?" 

Apollo's eyebrows scaled up his forehead in surprise. "If that's what you want."

"It's not," she answered truthfully, "but it's what Starbuck wants. And I do agree that, regardless of what Salik finds out, regardless of who she was before, she's entitled to that much."

"Shouldn't you wait for the test results, before you make that assumption?"

Gem hesitated, then shook her head. "This isn't about who she was. It's about what she did for Starbuck." 

Amazed silence met this announcement. Cassiopeia found her voice first, gasping, "_For_ him? Don't you mean, _to_ him?!"

"Please, Cass, don't. This is between Starbuck and...and her. I'm only trying to respect his feelings and honor his decisions. Besides," she asked, a trifle sadly, "what would you have me do? Stuff her down the trash chute? Even a lifer on the Prison Barge merits a decent burial."

"Don't you even want to know her name?"

Gem shuddered and cast a glance full of disgust at the body on the gurney. "No. The less I know about her, the better." Turning her back on the circle of confused, worried faces, she headed for the lift. "Let me know when you're finished," she called over her shoulder, as she stepped into the lift. "You can reach me at home."

*** *** ***

Starbuck paced the confines of the room, his movements as graceful and restless as a caged animal's and his eyes as desperate. His long strides covered the distance from door to wall in a matter of microns, while his gaze slid unknowingly over the room's other occupant. It seemed, in this dark, manic mood, that he had completely forgotten Apollo's presence, though he had come here specifically to see the commander.

Apollo watched him prowl ceaselessly back and forth and wondered what had driven him here. These days, Starbuck avoided him, unless ordered to attend a strategy meeting or dragged to a social gathering by Gem. The once gregarious pilot had become increasingly moody, unpredictable and reserved, till he bore little resemblance to the man Apollo remembered so well.

Apollo had watched this deterioration helplessly, watched his oldest and dearest friend retreat into a defensive shell that defied every effort to reach him. Only Gem could still elicit any response, and at times, even she failed. Apollo understood some of what caused it, and he had tried his best to stop the alarming trend, but Starbuck had eluded him.

At first, it had been a struggle for him just to communicate with others, but Starbuck had quickly overcome that barrier. He developed a language all his own, built of hand signs, scattered words, and the occasional facial expression, that was often more eloquent than speech. And he could type at lightening speed, when the need arose. But even as he learned to articulate his thoughts more freely, he became increasingly reticent about them. He never missed a session with the neuro-specialist, Dr. Dayan, and he worked tirelessly to regain what he had lost, but as the sectons trudged by, the walls only grew thicker. The man Apollo knew and loved, the man he desperately needed beside him, to help him carry the burden of command or simply to lighten it with his ever-present humor, just drifted farther and farther away.

The change in his physical appearance mirrored the change in his personality. In the yaron since his return, Starbuck had regained little of the weight he'd lost on the prison planet, leaving his body lean and lithe and his face angular. When he moved this way, his gestures full of barely restrained violence, he reminded Apollo of a half-starved predator. He had also, strangely enough, continued to let his hair grow. It now hung well below his waist in a fat, gold-streaked braid that Apollo found very distracting and incongruous. Even his subdued civilian clothing added to the eerily familiar, yet utterly strange picture.

As Apollo watched this silent apparition prowl the floor, he thought back to his meeting with the new recruits that morning. It was a standard part of their introduction to flight training – their first meeting with the fleet commander. Apollo usually enjoyed this opportunity to assess the quality of his future warriors.

They were as bright-eyed and eager a batch of youngsters as he'd ever seen, and just looking at them made him feel old. One of them had dropped a casual reference to Starbuck, wondering if they would ever meet the legendary Blue Squadron leader. Another jumped in, asking what interest he had in a civilian. The ensuing discussion made Starbuck sound like an out-dated fighter plane that had been broken down for spare parts. 

Apollo had to bite back caustic words and swallow his outraged pride, in order to maintain some kind of decorum. These arrogant children had no concept of what warriors like Starbuck – like Boomer and Sheba and Apollo himself – had accomplished in bringing the human fleet this far, against incredible odds. The man they shrugged off as useless, because he no longer sat at the controls of a viper, had built a legend of bravery, brilliance and heroism that they would not equal if they lived to fight a thousand yarons. There would never be another warrior like Starbuck. The human race couldn't produce two like him.

This thought flared in his mind afresh, as he followed Starbuck's restless pacing, and his heart filled with furious, wounded loyalty. Apollo jumped to his feet, consumed by an overriding need to actually reach his friend. He could take no more of this. He'd lost Starbuck once, and he'd rip the stars from the heavens before he'd lose him again. Striding around the desk, he caught Starbuck's arm and halted his movement.

"Stop it, Starbuck."

Starbuck glanced up at him, startled, and Apollo saw the briefest flash of recognition in his face, as if his old wingmate had looked out of those shadowed blue eyes at him for one micron, then quickly withdrawn.

"You didn't come here to wear holes in the deck. Tell me what's wrong."

Starbuck's mouth tightened in a hard frown, but to Apollo's surprise, he did not lift his hands to speak. Instead, he took a deep breath, clenched his hands into defiant fists, and forced the words out of his mouth. "I c-can't..."

Apollo waited for him to continue, then prompted, softly, "Can't what?"

"...do this. Anym...more." When Apollo turned questioning eyes, full of sympathetic pain, on him, Starbuck ground his teeth in rage and shrugged off the other man's hand to say, _I can't stand it anymore, Apollo. I've tried and tried, but I just can't do any better than this. And this isn't good enough. It isn't good enough!!_

Apollo winced at the frustration in his words and the bitter self-hatred in his face. "I know you've tried, and I know you're frustrated. But you have to give it time! Dr. Salik warned you..."

__

No! I don't care what Salik said! I can't live this way anymore – only half alive, only half human. There has to be another way.

"Why...why is this so hard for you? You don't have any trouble communicating with us, so why can't you be a little patient and give yourself some time?" 

Starbuck ground his teeth in fury and turned away from the fear and pity in Apollo's eyes.

"Please, Bucko," Apollo urged, "tell me what's going on! I only want to help!"

__

I thought you understood, Starbuck answered, his face full of hurt surprise. _You're the one who told me._

"Told you what?"

__

That I can't lead my squadron till I learn to speak again.

"By the Lords!" Apollo whispered. "Is that what all of this about?"

__

What else is there? Starbuck spun away from him and began to pace again, making it difficult for Apollo to follow his rapid gestures. _I'm a warrior. A pilot. It's the only thing I've ever known. I have to fly, have to fight, or I might just as well have died on that damned prison planet! _

"Don't say that! Even as a joke!"

__

Joke? You think this is a joke_?!_

"No, that's not... Starbuck, you talk as though your life is worthless if you can't fly with your squadron, and that's just not true! Look at y..."

Starbuck cut him off, sharply. _Don't give me the speech about my loving wife and wonderful family. I know exactly how lucky I am to have them._

He abruptly stopped pacing and fixed his burning eyes on the commander. _Look at me, Apollo. Look me in the face and tell me you don't understand. You've given up everything you loved, accepted a job you never wanted, out of duty to a dead man. Tell me you don't ache for the chance to go back. Just for one day...one battle._

Dead silence answered him. Finally, Apollo sighed heavily and whispered, "You know I do."

__

You made your choice, and you can't go back. But I didn't choose, Apollo. I don't have another job to do. I'm a pilot with no wings. What am I supposed to do?

Apollo bowed his head to hide the sudden stinging in his eyes. He shook his head in defeat, afraid to meet Starbuck's gaze and expose himself. He couldn't remember when he had last shed a tear in front of another person; Apollo did all his weeping in the sheltering safety of darkness. But the pain of their combined loss overwhelmed and betrayed him.

"I'm sorry," he finally rasped out. "I don't know what to do."

Starbuck touched his shoulder, drawing Apollo's eyes back to him, and answered, _Help me find another way._

"To do what?"

__

Talk to the other pilots. I can't fly with the squadron unless I can talk to the other pilots.

Apollo sighed again, knowing his words would only upset Starbuck more. "You just have to keep working with Dr. Dayan. It's the only way, Bucko."

__

Apollo, you know I'm not getting any better. My speech hasn't improved in sectons.

"It's a slow process."

__

And sometimes it just doesn't work. The doctor agrees that I'm not learning anymore. The repatterning techniques aren't working, because the nerve damage was too extensive. Don't you understand? This is as good as it gets! 

Apollo's eyes widened in horror. "Are you sure? Is...is the doctor sure?" Starbuck just stared at him, and Apollo turned away from the raw intensity of his gaze. "I guess I never considered the possibility that you...that..." 

He fixed his eyes sightlessly on the deck, trying to grapple with the unpalatable truth that Starbuck would never learn to speak again, that the best pilot ever to take to the stars would never lead a squadron into battle again. Could it possibly be that the smart-ass recruits were right, and Starbuck's unmatched legend was nothing but a fading memory?

The commander looked up again, into his friend's face, and suddenly knew that they were wrong. They were all wrong, if they thought this warrior had lost his wings. Apollo's spine stiffened, and his eyes gleamed with determination. 

Blinking away the telltale moisture from his eyes, he spoke with total authority that would brook no argument, "If the cylons can invent a way to fry your brain, we can invent a way to rewire it. I'm not going to lose my best pilot, because they got a little too creative for us." Turning a look on Starbuck that reminded the lieutenant forcibly of Commander Adama, he added, "I'm not going to lose my best pilot, or my best friend."

To Apollo's amazement, Starbuck smiled – the first smile he'd seen on his face in countless sectons.

__

I knew I could count on you.

*** *** ***

Gem paused in the open door to gaze at the figure standing on the far side of the room. Starbuck leaned close to the mirror to adjust the insignia on his collar, then straightened up and settled his flight jacket more precisely across his shoulders. From her vantage point, Gem admired the perfect fit of his uniform and the pride in his bearing as he studied his reflection. His shoulders were square and straight again, his head held high with the half-serious, half-mocking arrogance she remembered so well.

Starbuck caught sight of her in the mirror and smiled at her image. He turned swiftly to face her, and even the swing of his braid against his back seemed jauntier than before.

__

Hello, Beautiful.

Gem laughed and crossed the room quickly. "That was my line." She stepped in close to him, lifting one hand to finger the small, gleaming medal at his throat. "Been a long time since I've seen that. I missed it."

__

Me, too.

"When is the final test?"

__

In a centar. His glowing look dimmed momentarily, as his confidence slipped ever so slightly, then the micron of doubt passed and his smile lit up the room again. _CORA is getting restless_. 

Gem cocked an eyebrow at him, taking in his flight suit and insignia with one sweeping glance. "You're pretty confident." Starbuck nodded emphatically. "Well, you certainly look the part."

The pilot twisted around to study his reflection again, a frown of dissatisfaction pulling at the corners of his mouth. Gem watched, baffled, as he continued to glower at himself, turning one way and another, as though trying to get a different angle on his appearance. Suddenly, he reached over his shoulder and flipped his braid forward to hang down his chest. As he fingered the end of the braid, his frown lifted and a determined light sprang up in his eyes.

__

That's it.

"What?"

__

It's got to go.

"Your hair?" Gem followed his progress with some curiosity, as he moved over to the utility locker and began rummaging through it. "What're you going to do?"

__

Cut it off.

His wife looked more than a little perturbed at this statement. "No! Why?"

The note in her voice attracted his attention, and he abandoned his search to look up at her clouded face. _You don't want me to?_

"I like it this way. I've gotten used to it."

__

I'm sorry, Gem, but it just doesn't feel right.

She smiled lopsidedly and remarked, "Not very military, huh?"

He shook his head. _And it won't fit in my helmet._

Gem moved over to the locker and nudged Starbuck out of the way. "Allow the professional a little room, please." He backed off obediently, while she produced her emergency medical kit. After a moment's search, she produced a laser scalpel with a flourish. "Ta da!"

__

A scalpel?

"Surgery is surgery. Bring that chair over here."

Starbuck seated himself in a chair in front of the mirror, and Gem moved up behind him, fingering one of the gold clips he used to fasten his braid. While Starbuck waited, trustingly, she positioned the clip at the top of his thick braid and cinched it closed. Then, she switched on the scalpel, wrapped the braid around her left hand, and sliced it neatly off above the clip. Her eyes studiously avoided his image in the mirror, as she rolled up the long switch of hair and laid it on top of a tattered, faded, fragile pair of breeches in her clothing locker. 

She moved back over to the chair to find Starbuck staring at his rumpled, hacked off hair, his nose wrinkled in disgust. She couldn't help laughing at him, which only deepened his scowl.

"Stop that, and hold still." Her hands flew, wielding the scalpel expertly, and Starbuck's expression gradually softened into one of approval. 

As she worked, Gem let her eyes dwell on the faint scar that decorated his left temple. In another secton, it would fade completely, and there would be no outward evidence of the surgery Salik had performed three days ago. Her finger brushed the scar lightly, bringing Starbuck's eyes up to meet hers in the mirror. He smiled in understanding at her uncertain look.

So much hung in the balance. So much depended on a tiny chip implanted in her husband's brain and the vagaries of a temperamental computer. Starbuck's career as a pilot, his future with his squadron, his self-respect, pride and confidence – perhaps his very life. Everything rested on his ability to communicate with CORA.

Gem knew that the implant worked. She had heard the words come out of CORA's speaker - Starbuck's words, formed in the undamaged part of his brain, intercepted as electronic signals by the implant, then transmitted to CORA, who turned them into coherent speech. Only the final, official test flight remained to prove that he could communicate with other ships. Then, with CORA as his voice, Starbuck could reclaim his place among the warrior elite. 

That thought started an incredible ache in her chest, and she had to fight to hold her hands steady. It was inevitable that he would reach this point. She had never seriously doubted it, no matter how long and hard the road back. Nothing could keep Starbuck grounded for long. But she would never again be able to watch him climb into a viper, without feeling this pain in her heart and remembering three yarons of desolation.

She gave a last, deft flick of her scalpel, then stood back to study the effect, still avoiding Starbuck's gaze. Setting down the scalpel, she combed her fingers through his gleaming hair, settling the short, neat layers into place. "Now you look like a warrior again."

Starbuck didn't answer, just watched with troubled eyes as Gem bent forward to rest her cheek on his hair, her hands sliding down his torso and her arms holding him tightly. She closed her eyes and inhaled the familiar, comforting scents that clung to him, trying to draw enough strength from his closeness to face what was coming.

Starbuck's fingers fastened around her wrists, and his soft voice demanded her attention.

"Gem."

She slowly lifted her head.

__

You're afraid, aren't you?

"Yes."

His face darkened with pain, while his eyes begged her to understand. _I'm sorry. The last thing I want is to hurt you._

"I know that."

__

I would give anything to make this easier for you. But, Gem, this is who I am. I'm a warrior and a pilot. I blow up cylons. I protect the fleet. I do my share to keep the human race alive for another yaron. Without my uniform, without my viper and my squadron and cylons to fight, who am I?

"My husband," Gem murmured and dropped her head again to bury her face in his hair. After a long, tense pause, she continued, in a muffled voice, "But I understand why that's not enough. I honestly do. And I love you too much to watch you suffer anymore."

__

Don't ever think you're not enough!

"I'm not." She smiled sadly at him. "Don't look so horrified! You think I didn't know? Angel, you and I are two of a kind. I'm a doctor, the same way you're a pilot, and I could no more _stop_ being a doctor than I could stop breathing. So how could I not understand?"

__

But you're still afraid.

She held him for another centon, struggling to subdue the inner demons she knew he could never conquer for her, as hard as he might try. Finally, she stepped back from the chair and pasted a calm smile on her face. "On your feet, fly-boy. Don't want to be late for your own party."

Starbuck stood swiftly and turned to catch Gem in his arms. For a moment, she stiffened and tried to pull away, afraid to relax her grip on her own emotions. Then the familiar warmth of his embrace softened her resistance, and she melted willingly against him. They stood, still and silent, fears temporarily forgotten in the comfort of holding each other. 

Gem felt Starbuck take an unsteady breath and heard him whisper, "Love you...Gem."

She tightened her arms around him for a micron, then gently pushed away. "Let's get down to the flight deck before one of those snot-nosed cadets decides to take CORA out for a joyride." 

Her voice was back to normal, full of the wry humor and unwavering strength Starbuck had come to depend on so completely. He fell into step beside her, chuckling.

"It's way past time you put those babies in their place. Time to show 'em how the big boys operate."

__

Don't you think I'm getting kind of old for that sort of thing?

"Yeah, right!" Gem snorted. "The great Lieutenant Starbuck! You're just dying to get out there and start showing off!"

__

I don't know. All those centars in a cockpit...my joints start aching, my bad back goes out...

Gem's laughter floated back up the corridor, as they stepped into the lift together and sank rapidly out of sight.

*** *** ***

The viper crouched at the end of the launch tube, a thing of power and grace and deadly intent. Her hull gleamed redly in the overhead light of the bay, throwing the freshly painted Blue Squadron emblem into stark relief. The normal activity of the flight deck, always frenetic before a launch, was magnified by the presence of nearly every off-duty pilot in the fleet and a good portion of the Bridge crew. Safety precautions required that unauthorized personnel stay behind a barricade and well away from the probe craft, but so many people had come to watch Starbuck's flight, that they spilled past the barrier and onto the main flight deck, causing more than one technician to mutter a sour curse, as he dodged an errant gawker.

Only muted sounds penetrated the closed canopy of the viper, allowing the pilot to ignore his large and exuberant audience. Starbuck had always enjoyed the spotlight and loved to play a crowd, but today, he felt strangely uncomfortable under all those eyes. It was with a soundless sigh of relief that he watched Jenny seal the cockpit, leaving all his well wishers on the outside.

Once safely strapped into the acceleration couch, his helmet firmly on his head and his right hand curved familiarly around the control stick, he felt much of his nervousness and doubt fade away. This was where he belonged, his first and forever home. And here, if nowhere else, he was completely in control.

A throaty, sultry, slightly petulant voice issued from the speaker on the instrument panel. "Well, lover? What are we waiting for?"

Starbuck opened his mouth to answer, then remembered that he didn't have to speak to CORA. He only had to think at her. His answer was inaudible, but the computer obviously heard him. She gave a wounded sniff and began to hum tunelessly. Starbuck grinned at the light display that he always thought of as her face.

Opening the commline, he hailed the Bridge.

"Core Command, this is Blue Leader. Probe craft prepared for launch." The voice that came from CORA's speaker, and carried over the comm to the Bridge, was distinctly feminine, with CORA's throaty timbre, but it spoke with Starbuck's inflections, cadence and modulations. 

On the Bridge, Athena grinned over at Colonel Tigh. "Is that Starbuck or CORA?"

"Humph," CORA answered, the voice now unmistakably her own. "You don't think this space-happy stick jockey would let me handle a launch, do you? Even if I am much m..." She broke off abruptly, and everyone listening knew that Starbuck was calling her sharply to order.

When she spoke again, Starbuck was back in control. "Blue Leader requesting launch."

"Acknowledged. Blue Leader cleared for launch," Athena answered. "Switching launch control to probe craft."

"Blue Leader launching!"

In the next heartbeat, Starbuck's thumb hit the turbos. With a surge of noise and power, the tiny ship catapulted down the tube, gaining speed every micron. As they exploded out of the launch tube into open space, Starbuck felt an incredible rush of elation. The cold ache in his stomach, the nagging pain of loss was gone, swept away in the backwash of the roaring turbos.

Almost before he cleared the hull of the battlestar, the pilot pulled his viper into a smooth roll, for the pure joy of feeling the agile ship respond to his touch. Tears spilled down his cheeks, but he was laughing breathlessly at the same time. CORA's sensor told her that his life signs were haywire, and she began to beep in concern.

"Starbuck, honey, what's wrong? Are you ill? Should we land?"

__

No! His words reached her clearly, through her specialized receiver. _I'm fine! I'm wonderful! CORA, we're flying!!_

"Of course we're flying. Isn't that why we came up here?" She sounded thoroughly disgusted with his uncharacteristic emotional display. "But you'd better straighten up and fly right, or you'll make a spectacle of yourself in front of the entire squadron."

__

The squadron? Starbuck glanced at his scanner and was startled to see a whole array of ships arrowing up from the battlestar to join him. By his count, it was an entire squadron – or more. 

Before he could open the commline to question the new arrivals, he heard Boomer's voice fill his cockpit. "Blue Squadron launched and in position!"

"Boomer! What's going on? Who's supposed to be my wingman?"

"You're talkin' to him. Sir," he added, as an afterthought.

"Don't call me 'sir'. We're the same rank!"

"You're in command of the squadron today, which makes you my commanding officer. So, where're we going, Sir?"

"What is this felgercarb? I'm supposed to test my communications link with one wingman, not lead a whole..."

"Hey, guys!" Boomer bellowed into his pick-up. "Can you hear 'im?"

"Yessir" "Yo" "Aye, aye, Lieutenant" the answers came back, all competing to be heard on the busy circuit.

"Guess it works," Boomer commented. "Think the Old Man'll give you your job back?"

"Why are you all out here?" Starbuck demanded.

"Because Apollo left it up to us to assign you a wingman, and we couldn't agree."

"What, nobody wanted to fly with me?"

"Nobody wanted to stay behind, Bucko."

Starbuck fell silent, as the sudden tears in his eyes blurred the scanner image of his squadron forming up behind him. After a long moment, he answered, softly, "Thanks, Boomer."

"What, now I get thanked for condoning a mutiny? C'mon, pal. Let's give those slackers on the Bridge a show."

Starbuck laughed and was about to respond, when Athena cut in on the circuit. "Blue Leader, this is Core Command!" The tension in her voice immediately silenced the pilots' chatter.

"Go ahead, Core Command."

"We have multiple targets just coming into scanner range. Can you confirm?"

Every pilot in the squadron immediately turned to his cockpit display, hunting for any sign of trouble. Questions flew from ship to ship, as the warriors speculated on this surprise development.

"Are they for real?" "Thought this was a test flight." "Have you got anything on your scope, Greenie?" "Maybe the Commander's playing some kind of joke!" "Five gets you ten it's a drill."

"Cut the chatter!" Starbuck ordered. "Fun's over, boys and girls; time to earn our keep. Core Command, this is Blue Leader. We confirm multiple targets, headed this way."

All the pilots could now see the ominous wall of blinking lights at the edge of their scanner screens. The tiny ships pulled into a tighter pattern and seemed to strain forward, eager for battle.

"They're cylons, all right!" Sheba called out.

Suddenly, Apollo's voice filled their cockpits. "Do what you can to hold them, Starbuck! We'll get you some help as fast as we can scramble the pilots."

"Help?" Starbuck laughed, bringing knowing grins to the faces of his wingmates. "This is Blue Squadron you're talkin' to! Who needs help?" 

With that, he hit the turbos and sped toward the wall of cylons, his squadron in perfect position around him. In a matter of centons, the cylon raiders were no longer blips on a screen, but looming metal menaces, ablaze with laser fire. 

"Assume battle positions!"

The squadron broke into pairs of wingmen and loosened their formation, preparing to attack. Starbuck waited till the deadly fire was streaking past his canopy, lighting up the velvet of space, then he switched to the combat channel and called out,

"Hey, Boom Boom! A bottle of ambrosia says I get more cylons than you do!"

"You're on, Bucko!"

The first of the cylon raiders swooped into range, weapons blazing. Starbuck let out an earsplitting howl of defiance and slammed his control stick forward in its mountings. The viper went into a screaming, twisting dive, headed directly for a cluster of enemy ships, and, with another bloodthirsty battle cry, Starbuck began blowing cylons out of the sky.

  
FINIS


End file.
